Solstice
by cosmogirl7481
Summary: Life changes...just like the seasons. Bella finds herself coming out of an ending and into a beginning. Still hurt and emotionally withdrawn. Can someone new help her embrace the change in her life? Can her broken heart find love again?  E/B Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_**Solstice**_

**Definition: First day of a new season.**

Sad.

Fucking depressing.

That's all I see as I look around this room. Not that I'm looking much. I'm just going to keep my head down, you know, mind my own fucking business. I can't believe that my therapist, Renata, thinks this is a good idea. It's not. And she'll see that it's not at our next session, when nothing has changed.

Nothing's ever going to change.

Unless we're talking about my life.

A chill covers me, so I put on my grey knit sweater. It's baggy and unattractive, but immediately I feel warmer…safer. I love the way it smells – a mixture of Downy and my perfume. I breathe in deeply, fucking thankful that _he_ didn't buy it for me. The sweater or the perfume. I shouldn't have worn flip-flops because my feet are going to be cold. The thermostat in this place must be jacked down to sixty. They're probably afraid that a warm environment will lead to the spreading of our illnesses.

Is bitterness even contagious?

Anger?

The seats are almost filled. I don't know who's here because I'm obviously enthralled by the deep purple polish on my toenails. I don't want to see these people. Hell, I don't want to be seen by them. We're all pathetic. Seriously…how fucked up does one have to be in order to need to do this?

I am not fucked up.

I'm just really fucking pissed.

"Welcome everyone…my name is Didyme."

Her voice is really soft, controlled. She sounds like the enigmatic voice in my GPS. You know the one – a cross between a librarian and a phone sex operator.

I'm pulled from my thoughts when I hear her say, "We have someone new with us tonight."

My whole body tenses because I know she's talking about me. She didn't say there were multiple people. She said "someone." Well, I am not "someone." In fact, I'm no one important at all. I look at her and try to silently beg her with my eyes, but the moment she sees me, she says, "Would you mind introducing yourself?"

"I don't do that," I say quickly. "Yeah…umm…yeah, no."

"We're all friends here," she continues softly. Yeah, all these people are my friends. Maybe we should go to Chili's afterward and have chips and salsa and margaritas. "There's no judgment in this room."

"Yeah, there's no heat either."

Someone to my left laughs. I'm mortified, so obviously I don't look up to see who it is.

"We're all here for the same reason," Didyme says. "All of us have done it. Now…go ahead. Stand up and tell us your name...why are you here?"

Fuck this.

I'll just find a new therapist.

I don't really need a therapist anyway.

But somewhere in my resolve, I find that I'm standing on weak and shaking legs. I don't look up. I still can't. I don't want anyone to see me. And as selfish as it sounds, I don't want to see them either. I want to pretend that none of this is happening – that this isn't what my life has become.

I suck in a deep breath, and air fills my tight chest. I keep my eyes trained on my toes as both my feet shift nervously from side to side. And before I can think about what I'm doing, I hear the sound of my voice fill the quiet space.

"I'm here…I'm here because my therapist made me come. She thinks it will be healthy for me to talk about it. You know…what happened. I don't know if I believe all that. I don't know if I believe much of anything anymore.

"I guess that's not really true, though. I believe that what happened to me sucks. No really…it really fucking sucks. Sorry," I say looking up at Didyme. "I don't know if I should say 'fuck.' Is that even allowed?"

She just smiles at me and nods her head for me to continue.

"I used to be normal. I used to have this…you know, like this normal life. With work and a house and bills and dinner and… Well, anyway…it was just normal. And now it's not. Now, it's therapy sessions and trying to make it through the workday without needing to take an Ativan with my afternoon coffee.

"Now, it's a tiny apartment with Lean Cuisine and my best friend giving me lavender candles because they're supposed to be relaxing. I swear to god, she gives me one every week. Seriously. I have fifty-two candles. I could open a Yankee Candle store.

"Now, it's walking down the street and trying not to hurl pebbles I find on the sidewalk at happy couples that hold hands and kiss while they walk past me. Now, I'm bitter and find that I don't want to watch a romantic comedy. I want to watch _Fatal Attraction_ and wonder why I don't have the balls to be like Glen Close in that movie. Ironic, I know. Except that I'd never do that to a bunny. I'm against it…you know…animal cruelty and all that. Like…I'm really fucking against it.

"I guess I'm here because I'm crazy. Not really crazy. Though, I guess that whole _Fatal Attraction_ reference didn't help my case. I guess I'm just here… That's all. Just here."

I feel the wet heat on my cheeks, and my cold hand reaches up to wipe it away. I'm embarrassed, but oddly…surprisingly…I feel much lighter. Fucking Renata. I'm not telling her that.

"My name is Bella. And I'm here because I'm divorced. I'm divorced…and it turns out that I'm not handling it so well."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Something a little different. This story will update daily. So, I will see you every morning. **

**Thanks and love to my soulmate and ficwife, Marvar. She always supports me and encourages every single thing that floats through my mind. And she is the best beta in the world. And my bestie. Truth.**

**Thanks to the pre-readers: Raina, jaimearkin, Kourt17 and laura_1025. I love you all like whoa. J/S**


	2. Chapter 2

I sit back down, completely unable to believe that I just said what I said. Out loud and to all of the strangers in this room. I can't believe I cried. Not when I swore to myself that I would never waste another tear on my divorce.

On him.

I don't look up again, not even when others stand and speak. I hear them – their words and stories resting somewhere on the periphery of my mind – but I keep my head down. I watch my hands as they fist and grip the soft, woven knit of my sweater. I ignore the slight indentation that still remains on my left ring finger. It's still there…after all this time. Serving as nothing more than a reminder of what I've lost. What I guess I never should've had to begin with.

When the session is over, people stand and begin to move around. The smell of coffee fills the room and I hear some of them laughing and talking and making polite conversation. I should stay. The healthy thing to do would be to stay.

Yeah, fuck that.

Picking up my purse, I stand, looking around to find the door. I really need to get the fuck out of here. I mean, there's no way I'm staying for small talk. Not when everyone here has already heard my real story. How does one talk about the weather when your whole life story has already been laid out and placed on display? Like the saddest, most pathetic painting ever.

One doesn't.

Well, not this one anyway.

Just as I'm about to reach the door, I hear a voice behind me. It's soft and male, smooth and deep.

"You're not staying for coffee and donuts, Bella?"

How the fuck does he know my name?

Oh, right…because I announced it like I was at some fucking AA meeting.

"Does it look like I need any donuts?" I ask, wincing at the sharp tone of my voice…and the way my jeans are tighter than they used to be. So, maybe I haven't been eating Lean Cuisines all that much. Maybe I've been eating bags of Oreos and crappy takeout.

The door is right there. I was so close to making my escape.

"Ummm…y-yeah…" he stammers, not sounding as smooth as before. But his voice is still soft. Still masculine. "You ummm….you look fine. To me."

"I look fine," I say, turning around…as much as I don't want to. "Now, there's a ringing endorse…"

My words catch in my throat the moment I see him. Everything about him matches his voice. Handsome and tall, with hard angles…yet everything about him seems smooth. From the bronze hair (that's better than mine) to the piercing green eyes that are looking straight at me. Not through me – but at me. He's wearing low-slung jeans and a sweater and everything about him looks easy. Effortless.

I immediately want to run away.

"That didn't come out right," he says. "I mean…I just…it's not like I could say I thought you were pretty."

"Because that would be a lie?" I quip, not caring that I'm coming off as defensive. Not caring about anything other than the fact that I need to get the fuck out of here.

"No," he says. "Because that would have been inappropriate."

His eyes hold mine and I can't look away. They're soft and non-threatening. Wide and open. Well, that's bullshit. I've seen eyes like his before. Maybe not exactly like his. His have to be contacts. Seriously. They're like fucking emeralds. But regardless, I've seen eyes that were warm and full of laughter. Eyes that looked into mine and made the world go away.

Well, fuck that.

That didn't work out so well before.

Eyes can change. Just like people. Well, people with dicks.

Shaking my head, I look back down. "Yeah…I need to go. Okay then. Bye."

"Bella," he says my name and I feel this tingling. It makes me angry. Who is he to make me fucking tingle? And who the fuck am I to let him? "It's okay that you're nervous. Sharing – especially the first time – is hard."

I look back up, my cheeks flushing with anger and embarrassment.

"Don't pretend to know what is and isn't hard for me. You don't know anything about me at all," I say quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. "And for the record, I didn't see you standing up and sharing anything…you know, personal and private tonight."

"What do you want to know?" he asks. His voice is soft, and he's smiling.

"I don't want to know anything."

"Come on," he presses. "You can ask me one question and I'll tell you the truth. Anything."

I stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he's serious. Trying to figure out why he's even talking to me. Nothing about me can possibly read as warm and inviting. Nothing about me should hold his interest at all. I mean, he's gorgeous, obviously. And for whatever reason, he seems nice.

They all seem nice in the beginning.

So, I do the one thing I know will shut him up. The one thing that will make him leave me alone so I can leave like I want to.

"Why are you here…yeah, sorry. I don't know your name."

"I'm Edward," he offers.

"Okay, Edward," I say. "Why are _you_ here?"

His smile falters, and I feel just like the bitch I know I am. My misery doesn't give me the right to make anyone else feel bad. I'm about to apologize, when he speaks.

"The same reason as you, Bella," he says. "I'm here because I'm divorced."

And before I can stop myself, I hear me asking, "Yeah…but why?"

His face is serious, and he steps in closer. Too close. So close I can feel the heat emanating from his stupid, perfect body. I hear him breathe – I feel his breath across my face. And my whole body warms from the almost-contact. And I don't fucking move. I stand there frozen like a statue in the park.

"I'm divorced because…" he sighs loudly, leaning in to whisper in my ear. "My wife left me because my cock was too big for her tiny vagina."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for the wonderful response to chapter 1. It means a lot that so many of my readers are willing to embrace this story. Especially given the context.**

**As always, Marvar is amazing. And the reason that anything I write is readable. She truly is a beta-goddess. Or a sex goddess. (If you're talking to Rob.)**

**Thank you to my pre-readers: Raina, jaimearkin, Kourt17 and laura_1025. I love them more than Phoebe loves smelly cat.**

**See you in the morning!**


	3. Chapter 3

I burst out laughing in spite of myself. I can't help it. Of all the things in the entire world he could have said, I never once would have expected that. And a part of me stops to wonder if it's at all possible he's telling the truth. _Jesus fucking Christ_. That _cannot_ be the truth…can it? Of course, I silently tell myself to shut the fuck up.

But the laughing – the laughing feels good.

"Why…why…" I sputter. "Why would you say that?"

He laughs and it's nice. You know, his laughter. It's…yeah, it's nice. "I told you I would only answer one question."

He steps back and smiles down at me. It doesn't go unnoticed that even though I feel more comfortable with the distance, I kind of miss the closeness. The feeling of someone's body in close proximity to mine. Yeah, I don't do that anymore. Not with anyone. Not even my friends.

"You told me you'd tell me the truth."

"You're right," he says. His expression softens, deepens…but then he shakes his head before looking out the glass door. "It's raining."

"Fuck. Is it?" I groan. I didn't bring a jacket and my building is six blocks away. "I need to go."

"Do you have an umbrella?"

"No," I tell him. "But that's alright. I'll just run."

"You'll get wet."

"It's fine."

"Well, I do," he says. "I mean…I have an umbrella and I could walk you home…and you know…maybe tell you the _truth_ on the way."

He looks hopeful.

"You're right. You _didn't _tell me the truth."

"That _could_ have been the truth."

"If that's the truth, you should have it put on a business card. You could hand it out to random women at these meetings. I'm sure you'd be able to walk any number of them home."

"I'd like to walk _you_ home, Bella."

His voice is soft again, genuine. And it immediately makes me uncomfortable. I stiffen and begin backing away from him. This has been too easy…and all of it's too much. I'm not ready for anything like this. I'm not ready to be here. In this place. With him.

"I'm not…yeah, I'm not going to do that."

"It's not a big deal," he says. "I live really close. It's doesn't even have to be like I'm walking you home. You'll just be sharing my umbrella."

I look at his face. The slight flush of his cheeks. The way his Adam's apple bobs in and out as he swallows. Almost like he's nervous. But he's _not_ nervous. Not the way I am. And he doesn't really want to walk me home. Well, he wouldn't. Not if he knew.

"That's okay."

"What if I promise to make you laugh again?"

His persistence makes me want to stay. It makes me want to stay and that scares me and pisses me off. And I don't know if I'm pissed at him for asking, or pissed at myself because of the way that I'm feeling. Confused and torn…and vulnerable.

And I can't let myself be vulnerable anymore.

Vulnerability makes you susceptible to hurt…to fucking pain.

"No…I just….I can't."

My voice breaks on the last word and I know he hears it because he immediately backs off. Both figuratively and literally. And now, I want to cry because this is what my life has become. I can't even talk to a handsome man – or _any_ man for that matter anymore. I've become this socially awkward outcast. I wasn't like this before. I used to laugh and flirt and have fun.

Nothing is the same now.

Nothing is _ever_ going to be the same again.

"Hey," he says, and I look up and meet his eyes. I don't want to…but something in his voice makes me. Like, it literally pulls my eyes to his like a fucking magnet. "I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't…I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I don't have to walk you home. But don't go out into the rain. Stay here. Have some coffee. I can tell you the truth here. Or make you laugh. Whatever you want."

And I'm looking at him, knowing that if I open my mouth to speak, I'm going to cry. And I've already humiliated myself enough for one night. Why can't I handle this? Why can't I handle anything? Why did I let someone make me feel so insignificant that I've ended up here?

In fucking group therapy.

And his eyes – _Edward's eyes_ – they're looking at me like they understand. He's looking at me like he knows what I'm feeling. But I can't handle him knowing…and I can't handle his understanding. I can barely handle myself.

So, with that I do the only thing I can.

I turn and I walk out.

Out into the rain.

Back to my life, where it's enough to just be getting by.

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for all the recc's and tweets and support in general. You have no idea how much I love and appreciate each and every thing you've said. And a special thanks to those who have shared any part of your stories with me. I wish I could give all of you a hug. **

**Thanks to Marvar, who has a million more important things to do than beta my words. But she always does, and I really just love her. Sofa king much. **

**Thanks to the pretty girls that pre-read: Raina, jaimearkin, Kourt17 and Laura_1025. You girls make me smile, and ILY.**

**See you all in the morning!**


	4. Chapter 4

The light is muted in the room as I take my seat on the leather couch across from Renata. It's been three days since the fiasco of going to the group therapy session. There's a throw beside me on the couch, and I immediately curl my legs under myself and cover my lap with it, waiting for her to talk.

Still waiting.

"You're biting your nails again," she says softly.

"Fuck."

"I've noticed you do that when you're nervous," she says. "Are you nervous, Bella?"

"Maybe. Yeah, I guess so."

"Why are you feeling nervous today?"

And I don't know how to answer this question. It's not like there's just one answer.

"I'm nervous because I'm here. No, I'm nervous because I'm still here. Week after week. Month after fucking month. And nothing changes."

She writes something in the file she's holding on her lap. "_My file_," I think to myself. I have a file. My name is Bella Swan, and I have a file. Awesome.

"Do you think that nothing has changed?"

I think about her question, wondering what the _right_ answer is. I know there's not _supposed_ to be a _right_ answer, but we all know there really is. One day, in one session, I'm going to finally say the right things, and she's going to tell me that I'm a healthy, well-adjusted person. One day, she's going to tell me that my weekly visits are no longer necessary.

_Right?_

"I went to the divorce group," I offer. "That's change, I guess."

"And how was that?"

Horrifying.

Awful.

Well, some of it was awful. And then it was good for like a minute. And then it was awful again.

"Fine."

"Define fine."

I roll my eyes and I pull the blanket up higher. She makes some more notes. And this is what we do. Every fucking week.

"It was fine," I say. "I went and I didn't die. Unless you count dying of embarrassment."

"Why were you embarrassed?"

"I don't know," I say sarcastically. I feel bad until I remember that I'm paying her a ridiculous amount of money. "Getting up and talking in front of people you don't know about your personal issues is kind of embarrassing. Hell, doing that _here _is embarrassing."

She smiles at me. And I don't know why the fact that she doesn't seem to be condescending is pissing me off. But it is.

"So, you talked, then?"

"I did."

"And how did that feel?"

"It felt…I don't know…I guess it felt…okay."

"I'm happy you went," she says. "I think it could be good for you to be around other people who have gone through what you've gone through."

"I met a man," I blurt out, and then immediately want to take it back. I don't want to talk about Edward. I don't even want to think about him. Even if all I've done for the last three days _is_ think about him.

"Really?" she asks. "We can talk about that. But I'd like to talk some more about the group."

"I met him at the group."

And I don't know how she does it. How does she make me say everything I want to keep to myself? I swear, there's like fucking truth serum piped in the air here. Like the government should use Renata to interrogate traitorous spies or some shit.

"And you talked to him?"

"Well, he talked to me. He asked me to stay for coffee and donuts."

"Did you?"

"No. I'm pretty sure I made a sarcastic comment about my weight and not needing any donuts."

"So, you deflected?"

I huff, and pull my knees closer to me. Why am I so cold all the fucking time?

"No…I told him the truth."

She writes something else down.

"Do you think that's the truth?"

"What?"

"That you shouldn't indulge in something sweet?"

"Are you talking about the donuts or the man?"

"You think the man is sweet?"

"No…yes…no….I don't know."

She puts the file down and leans in toward me. Her expression is soothing and unreadable at the same time. I take another deep breath and fight the urge to bite my nails, but I feel a million words bubbling up in my chest.

"I think we should explore this a little more."

.

.

.

A/N

Reviews are love.

Please leave me some.

To everyone reading: Thank you. Thank you for the response and for the encouragement. And for loving and appreciating these characters.

Marvar is amazing. There are no words. And I wouldn't be able to write without her. I love you, soulmate.

My pre-readers are "amazeballs." Raina, jaimearkin, Kourt17 and laura_1025.

See you in the morning!


	5. Chapter 5

"My name is Jasper. And I've been divorced for six months."

I'm sitting in the back of the room wondering what the hell kind of name Jasper is. I'm wearing almost the same thing as last time. Well, the jeans are different, but the sweater is the same. I'm not talking tonight. But as much as I didn't want to, I came back.

I hope he isn't here.

Fuck, I hope he is.

But I refuse to look for him. Looking would be bad. Looking would be very, very bad.

"My wife and I separated after she found out I was into some weird shit…you know, _sexually_. I won't go into the details here, but let's just say it was an avenue she didn't want to go down. I'm not a pervert or anything. I mean, a lot of people are interested in what I want to do, but once she knew the truth, she bailed."

Jesus. What kind of shit is he into?

"How did that make you feel?" Didyme asks.

"Awful. Like shit. I mean, I'm still in love with her. And now she's moving on with some new man. This _normal_ man. And I should just be okay with it. You know…like, I should just be fine with the fact that she's trying to be happy. But I can't. I miss her every day and I just…I can't."

"Would you really be happy in a relationship where you weren't sexually fulfilled?" someone else in the room asks.

"I don't know…I mean, I didn't think so. But now that she's not a part of my life, I don't think I'll ever be happy again."

And even though I don't think I have anything in common with this man, I still understand what he means. I don't want to be back with… My entire body tenses just thinking about him. My ex-husband isn't something or someone I'd like to revisit. Unless I was visiting him to, you know, kick him in the balls.

And even as I think it, I know it's not true. I didn't do anything. I'm never going to do anything except be hurt and angry and self-doubting. I fucking hate that I allowed him to make me feel this way. I didn't even want anything weird sexually. I just wanted… well, I guess it doesn't matter what I wanted. He got it somewhere else anyway.

I don't even realize how caught up in my own thoughts I am until I notice Jasper has stopped speaking. I keep my head down until I hear a voice. His voice. And just like that, everyone else in the room disappears. My head is up and I'm listening. Intently.

"My name is Edward. And I'm here because I'm divorced. And it turns out, I had a hard time dealing with it, too. I mean, I guess I'm still dealing with it. I'm here, aren't I? But the truth is…"

As soon as he says it, he looks over at me. It's only for a second, but there's eye contact. There's also my stupid heart pounding, which I purposely ignore. I'm focused on him.

He's so unassuming just standing there. But everything about him commands my attention. From the tousled hair to the easy, laid back posture. And his voice – his voice is gentle and deep. And I could listen to it all night. Or day. Whatever.

Jesus.

I sound like I'm going to write him a poem that would probably suck.

"The truth is my wife wasn't in love with me. She hadn't been for a while. And if I'm honest with myself, I suppose I have to admit that I wasn't in love with her either. I thought I was…I mean, I think I was in the beginning. But we didn't have anything in common really. And I wasn't very exciting."

He uses air quotes for the words "very exciting." It's funny to me, really. I can't imagine anyone not thinking he was exciting. Our brief, albeit awkward and uncomfortable conversation, was the most exciting thing to happen to me in a really long fucking time. Even if it did end with me running out into the rain like an idiot. But truly, just looking at him is exciting.

_Seriously, Bella? _

_Seriously?_

"It hurt for a long time, but again, the truth is…her leaving was for the best. She wasn't the right person for me. It took me a long time to actually believe that. I'm not going to stand here and pretend it didn't hurt. It did. But every day gets a little easier. Every day, I find myself looking for something…maybe even someone I can be happy with.

"And that's another truth, isn't it? We don't really know when happiness will find us. But I believe that it can…fuck, I believe that it will. So, that's why I'm here. I'm just…I just…I believe that you have to push through every day. And you can't be closed off to everyone around you. The person – the right person – could be right there. In front of you. Beside you…right in the same fucking room. Anyway…yeah, that's all."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**So the response to this is still amazing…and I'm so happy and grateful that people are enjoying. Thank you to everyone for reading and tweeting…and every single comment.**

**Marvar is fucking awesome. And she has to tell me ridiculous stuff – like the fact that I have no spaces between words. Seriously. It's embarrassing. And all of you would flounce me without her. Also, I love her. And she's pretty. Even if the neighborhood does think she's trashy and no good.**

**My pre-readers are wonderful. And all have killer racks. Raina, jaimerarkin, Kourt17 and laura_1025. I love them. #TeamAmazeballs**


	6. Chapter 6

"You came back," he says.

I'm still sitting in my chair. I haven't moved since the meeting was over. Honestly, I haven't moved since he stopped talking. Or breathed for that matter.

"I did."

The end of every nerve in my body tingles as he approaches, causing me to shiver. I pull the sweater tight around my body, my hand gripping the soft fabric until I can breathe...waiting for him to talk.

He does.

"Listen," he says, sounding as nervous as I feel. "I'm sorry if I…I mean…fuck, I'm sorry if I offended you last week."

"You didn't," I tell him a little too quickly. "I mean…well, I was going to apologize, too. To you, I mean. I'm sorry if I was…well, if I came across as…"

"Overwhelmed?"

"No, a bitch."

Oh, my god. Is this what happens to you when you have avoided all social situations for a year? Do you become this…this idiot with no verbal filter? And how sad is it that I consider group therapy a social situation?

Pretty fucking sad.

"You're not a bitch," he says. "You weren't. I mean, you're not."

"Yeah, well…anyway, I am really sorry. I didn't mean to just run out of here like that."

He looks at the seat next to me, silently asking if he can sit down. And even though it makes me nervous, I tell him, "Yes, please…of course."

There's this warmth that surrounds me as he sits down. This heat. It's electric…and no part of my body goes untouched. I look over at him, wondering if he feels it, too. Wondering if it's just me.

"I have an idea," he says, smiling. It makes me tingle a little, and I don't even try to fight it.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

He leans in closer, and while I don't lean in too, I'm not pulling away. I'm a little uncomfortable, but not enough to ask him to stop.

"I think this…this environment..." he says, looking around, "well, what do you think of maybe getting out of here? We could go for a walk. Maybe get some coffee. I mean…only if you're comfortable with it."

And the truth is, I don't know if I'm comfortable with it. I don't know what it would mean for us to "go for a walk" or "get some coffee." But I also know that right now in this moment, I want to talk to him. And maybe look into his gorgeous green eyes some more.

He starts to look nervous and I realize that I haven't said anything. I haven't said anything and I'm staring at him.

"Ummm…I'm not…I'm not sure," I finally say. "I mean, I don't know…"

And then I stop talking. I stop talking, because what the actual fuck am I doing? If this gorgeous man had met me ten years ago and asked me to go for a walk, we would have had a full-on go-to-jail Monopoly situation.

Do not pass go.

Do not collect two-hundred dollars.

But that was ten years ago. That was when I was still naïve and thought the best of people. That was when I saw the opposite sex as someone to have fun with…not someone who could potentially rip my heart out.

"Of course," he says, looking down. And I hate it because I can't see his eyes. "I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't…I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable again."

It strikes me that he might actually be in the same situation as me. That he is also divorced, and while what I know of his story doesn't seem to be the same as mine, rejection from your spouse – in any form – is devastating.

"Hey," I say. I move to nudge his shoulder with mine, but my nerves tense, and I stop. "You…you didn't. Okay?"

He looks back up at me, and I don't know what it is about his eyes. They pull me into them…into him. And I remember something that Renata said about not allowing my fear to cripple me.

"Okay," he says, a small smile forming on his lips.

"I don't know if I feel like…I mean, if I'm up to coffee," I tell him. I know what I'm about to do. And even though there are a million reasons screaming at me not to, I want to. "But maybe…maybe a walk would be good?"

It's funny how such simple words about such a simple act are making my heart pound in my chest. I can feel the pink heat of adrenaline covering my face and neck and chest. My breathing is shallow and my hands are tightly fisted at my sides…but I _want_ to do this.

"I'd like that," he says quietly. "I'd really like that a lot, Bella."

"I think…I think I would, too."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for reading. And thank you for all the support and encouragement. It blows me away every single day.**

**Marvar is the best person I know. And I couldn't do this without her. I love her more than I can say. And we all know I can say a lot. Thank you, soulmate. I feel like I should sing you a Stevie Wonder song. **

**My pre-readers are the best ever. THE BEST. Raina, jaimearkin, Kourt17 and laura_1025. Thank you! #Team Amazeballs**


	7. Chapter 7

It feels awkward stepping outside, as Edward holds the door. It's been a long time since I've done this – whatever this is.

Walking.

Yeah, we're just walking…and talking.

Before I have time to wonder what I should say, he falls in line beside me. He's close, but not so close that I panic. And it's like this for about a half a block. He doesn't say anything, and neither do I. It's just silence. And the silence is more comfortable that I expected.

I feel the back of his hand brush mine as we move forward together.

It tingles.

My heart skips.

"Do you know where we're going?" he finally asks. His voice is soft, but it carries over the sound of the city. And for a moment, I think it's the only sound in the world. No cabs passing or other conversations in the distance.

Just him.

Just his voice.

I look up at him and he's smiling. I smile back without even thinking. But then, I realize I'm smiling and something about it feels off…feels wrong. I bite down on my bottom lip, pinching the flesh with my teeth until it stings. And I wonder when pain became more tolerable than pleasure.

"You mean you don't know?" I reply, shaking my head and trying to clear my mind of the negative thoughts.

"I was letting you lead," he says.

"I'm not a good leader."

"What _are_ you good at, Bella?"

His question surprises me, catches me completely off guard. And before I even think about it, or you know…stress over every single word and inflection, I answer.

"Cooking."

"You like to cook?"

"I never said I liked it," I tell him. "I said I was good at it."

"So you don't enjoy it?"

"Well, I mean…I guess I do. I like to chop things," I say, realizing very quickly that I sound like a crazy, knife-wielding psychopath. I laugh in spite of myself and try to explain. "I mean, I find the repetitiveness soothing. I love chopping onions and celery and parsley and peppers. I love that they're just…ingredients. You know? Like on their own, they're nothing much. But when you add them to something else, they become…something good."

He looks at me for a long moment and I can't tell what he's thinking. Of course, he's probably thinking I'm unstable. And just when I'm about to try to explain myself even further, I'm distracted by his hand reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.

Yeah. I wonder what that feels like.

No, wait…I don't. I can't. What the fuck am I thinking?

"I know exactly what you mean, Bella," he says, smiling.

_About what?_

Oh, right. I was talking.

Fuck. What was I talking about?

Food…I was talking about food.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I really do."

And for a moment, I think he does.

"But I don't really cook much anymore. I mean…well, it's just me," I say.

God, I sound pathetic.

"It's just me, too," he says. "I don't even remember what an actual meal tastes like." He looks at me for a moment before laughing awkwardly. "I mean…I'm not fishing for an invitation to dinner, I swear."

I laugh in spite of myself, and even though I'm still tense and nervous, something about this feels easy…right.

"It's okay," I tell him, having no other words to say.

"Thanks."

We pick up the pace again, moving forward. I can still feel the air-light brush of his hand against mine as our arms swing back and forth. And yeah, I still tingle whenever his skin touches mine. It's been so long since I've felt anything like this. Anything this exciting. Even if most people wouldn't find this exciting at all.

"What are you good at?" I ask.

He smiles.

"Besides making inappropriate comments to beautiful women I just met?"

And at his words, I freeze. My entire body seizes up and I feel like I can't breathe. Because his words are too smooth…too perfect.

He doesn't mean them.

He can't.

"Don't do that," I say. "Please, just…just…don't do that."

"What, Bella? What did I do?"

"Don't say things you don't mean."

He looks like he wants to say something and starts to speak before stopping. He looks at me, then down at the ground. And after what feels like an eternity, he looks up at me again.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he says. "But Bella, I meant what I said."

"I can't do this," I tell him, my voice cracking. "I thought I could…you know…that I could try. But I just can't. I'm sorry, Edward. I'm really…I'm just sorry."

"Bella, please," he reaches out to take my hand. His fingers are warm as they circle mine, but I quickly pull them back.

"This is me up here," I tell him, nodding to the brownstone a few buildings down. All of this is too real. Too soon. "Ummm…thanks…thank you. For…well, for walking me home."

"I thought you said you weren't leading us anywhere."

His eyes are soft and dark, and maybe hurt. But I can't help that, can I?

"I didn't realize I was."

We're standing in front of my steps now and I want to run inside and shut the door and never come out again. And a part of me wants to stay. To talk with him some more. To be fucking normal for just one goddamn night.

"I need to go inside now."

"Bella," he says my name and I stop. Moving…breathing…everything. "I never told you what I was really good at."

His eyes penetrate me…like they see all the way inside me. And if that's true, I need to know why he's still here. Why isn't he running away…like everyone else?

"What?"

He runs his fingers through his hair and looks down at the sidewalk. He looks back up to me, smiling. He's still fucking smiling. Even if it is a little sad.

I hate that I made him sad.

Hate it.

"I'm a really good listener," he tells me. "And a really good friend."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you to everyone reading and reviewing. I'm still (and will remain) blown away by the response. *hugs all of you* **

**Solstice was nominated by someone really pretty for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand. You can go here to vote if you want. **

**tehlemonadestand . blogspot. com**

**I seriously have no words for Marvar anymore. Especially since I'm updating every day. Just know that I love her…and she is the reason I'm still here writing. And it should be known that I'd like to Huffle her Puff.**

**#TeamAmazeballs is still awesome. Raina, Jaime, Kourt and Laura. IFLY like whoa.**

**See you in the morning!**


	8. Chapter 8

"You seem different today," Renata states while looking at me.

I'm in my normal position on the couch, though probably less fetal than normal. And not quite as cold because I notice that for the first time since coming here, I'm not covered with the throw.

Maybe I am different.

"Different how?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"I went back to the group."

"And how was that?"

"It was fine. And before you ask me to define fine…fine means fine."

She smiles then makes a note, and I think that one day I'd like to know what she's writing. I wonder if that's even allowed. I mean, I think it should be allowed. It is about me after all.

"Did you talk again?"

"Yeah," I say, sighing before I can stop myself. "We did."

Fuck.

She was asking if I talked in group.

"I mean, I didn't talk in front of everyone again. Other people did."

Edward did.

"What did you mean when you said 'we' talked?"

I look down and then back at her. Her face gives nothing of what she's thinking away.

I decide to tell her the truth.

"I was talking about Edward," I say, biting my thumb nail. And then I roll my eyes because I realize I'm biting my thumb nail, and I know she realizes it, too. "We talked again."

"And how what that?"

I take a deep breath and begin talking.

"It was okay. I mean, I guess it was good. We walked. I mean, like we went for a walk. And it was kind of normal…whatever that means. I mean, not _normal_ normal. You know…just normal for me."

She writes something down again, and I wonder when I'm finally going to say something that isn't noteworthy.

"What is normal for you?"

And I guess we're doing this.

"I don't know. I think that's the problem. I don't know what normal is for me anymore. I felt like…I mean, I feel like walking and talking…you know…with a man…shouldn't be so difficult."

"It was difficult?"

"Not at first. I was nervous, but it was…I guess it was kind of nice. But then…then I panicked. Like a freak."

"What do you mean?"

And now I want the blanket again. But instead, I just tuck my legs underneath me, sit up straighter and tell her.

"He called me pretty again. Well, he implied it. And it…it scared me."

"Why did that scare you, Bella?"

"_You know why_," I tell her flatly.

"I think we should talk about this."

And I don't want to talk about it. She knows I don't want to talk about it. Wasn't the first time I talked about everything enough? I know she took notes. She all about the note-taking.

But she doesn't withdraw her statement. She just waits for me to open up because she knows I will.

"It scared me because…because when we were talking, it would have been so easy to just…to just believe what he was saying. And it's too easy for men…to lie. They're good at it. They say things they don't mean. They make you fall in love with them and then out of nowhere, you realize that everything they said is a lie. Men fucking lie. It's what they do. And I just…I just can't…no, I _won't _be the woman who believes them anymore."

"So, you think that all men are like Tyler?"

At the mention of his name, my entire body goes rigid. I get nauseous and I feel the contents of my stomach rise up and burn the back of my throat.

"No."

She sighs, leans in and says, "Just because one man did those things, doesn't mean that all men will do those things."

"_I know that_," I tell her, the words coming out of my mouth are forced, painful. And the truth is I do know that. _Somewhere_, I know that. "I'm just…it's scary, you know?"

She looks at me, and I wait for her to ask another question. You know, lead me down the path to healing or whatever. But she says nothing. She asks nothing. So, out of my own insecurity or need to fill the silence, I continue.

"It was exciting at first, though," I decide to talk about Edward, since I can't talk about Tyler. "Maybe not as scary as you think. Nice even. Just walking with him. Talking about normal things. He asked me what I was good at. And then…and then…"

"And then what?"

Then I freaked out.

Then I ran away again like the coward I am.

"He told me that we could be friends," I tell her, releasing a breath I didn't even know I was holding onto. "Well, I think that's what he meant."

He also kind of held my hand for two seconds. Well, my fingers. But that doesn't matter because I ripped them away from him. He'll probably never try to do that again.

"And what do you think about that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to be his friend?"

No.

I want to hold his hand while we walk. I want to laugh at his jokes. I want to make him dinner, and god help me, I want to taste whatever I cook for him on his lips.

Fuck.

I'm so screwed.

"I think so."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for reading and for the encouragement and support for this story. I wish I could give you all a hug. **

**Love to Marvar who ALWAYS makes me laugh. Even if it is about hot air-balloon rides and salmonella poisoning. I don't know what I'd do without her. I'd probably cry and write sadder fic than this. And you would have to read it. And it would have a million errors. LOL**

**#TeamAmazeballs owns my ass. Thank you for all the feedback and support. You guys make me happy and IFLY. Raina, Jaime, Kourt and Laura are all total win. xoxo**

**See you in the morning!**


	9. Chapter 9

"My name is Rose. My husband and I were married for seven years. We have two beautiful children – twins. One boy and one girl. They both look like their father."

She has a sadness in her voice that I can relate to. And her eyes look empty…vacant. I wonder if that's what people see when they look at me. I immediately look down.

"I thought we were really happy. I thought…I thought we had everything we wanted. But I was wrong. I was completely wrong."

She pauses and the whole room is silent. The whole room is listening to her, and I think about how hard this is. How hard it must be for her. How hard it was for me. How hard is still is for me. And I'm not even the one talking.

"Last summer we decided to put a pool in the back yard. It was more my idea than his. And I was so excited. The kids were so excited. And I thought that he was excited, too. I mean, at first I had to convince him. He was kind of worried about the finances. But he eventually…eventually he was really excited…happy. Only it wasn't about the pool.

"There was a man….you know, overseeing the installation. I don't…" she pauses to take a deep breath, and I find that I need to take a breath, too. "I don't think I can explain what it's like to come home and find your husband fucking the pool boy. Or rather…being fucked by the pool boy. I guess he wasn't a boy at all. He was a man. I mean…well, there are some things you just can't unsee. You husband being fucked in the ass by a man with a penis that's bigger than his…there's nothing to get that out of your mind."

And suddenly, it's a year ago. Suddenly, I'm not here in this room. I'm back to where I was when I found out. And I look at this woman…at Rose. And I feel her pain. I have felt her pain. Fuck, I'm _still _feeling her pain.

There are tears in her eyes. There are tears in mine. And she looks at me and smiles sadly. I feel like I want to give her a hug, but then I remember that I don't even like hugs. Well, I used to…but not anymore.

"So, now it's just me and my kids. Living in the house that I built with my husband. My ex-husband. It's still strange to say that. Ex-husband. It still hurts. Every single day. I'm in the big house, and he's…well, he has an apartment in the city where he's living with that man. And people are all really happy for him. It's fucked up, you know? People are happy for him that he had the courage to _actually_ come out and live his life on his terms. Like he should be wearing a rainbow polo and in a commercial for Pride Fest in Key West. And I am left with pity and sadness. And whispering gossips in the suburbs."

Yeah…I totally want to give her a hug.

And maybe a friendship bracelet.

"But I'm still standing. I'm still here…trying to pick up the pieces. Trying to be a good mom – a strong mom – for my kids."

She takes her seat and I want to clap. Like an idiot. I want to clap for her bravery and for her ability to just be here. And for a single moment, just a flash…I'm proud of myself for doing the same thing.

.

.

.

"How are you?"

His back is to me and he's pouring coffee into a white styrofoam cup. People are still milling about the room, but I saw him. The truth is, I saw him the moment I came in. Was aware of his presence right away. It scared me. So I sat on the opposite side of the room.

But Rose…well, she inspired me. You know…to be strong or whatever. I told her that after the meeting. And then – to the surprise and mortification of both of us – I hugged her. It was awkward and tight…and we both laughed. But yeah…she hugged me back.

But Edward made an effort with me, and even though I probably scared him off forever, I'm going to try to make an effort with him, too. I hope he meant what he said about being a good friend.

"Bella," he says my name, turning around. He's smiling. It's perfect. I ignore the flutter in my stomach. It doesn't mean anything. I can't mean anything. "I'm so glad you're here."

"You are?"

He looks at me – my eyes, my face. I feel like he pauses on my lips, but I'm probably mistaken. And then he smiles again. It's wider. It's…well, it's really wonderful.

"I am."

He offers me a cup of coffee and before I allow myself to refuse, we're sitting on two chairs sipping the hot liquid.

It's good.

I feel good.

"Did you mean what you said?" I ask. "Because I meant what I said."

He looks confused, and I realize that I'm making no sense.

"About what?"

"About you being my…a good friend?"

"Yeah, I did," he says. "I meant it."

"Okay."

"What about you?" he asks.

"What?"

"You told me you meant what you said, too," he says, before taking a drink of his coffee. His lips look soft, and I tell myself to stop looking at his lips. "What were you talking about?"

And I know what I want to do. I want to do it, but I'm terrified. I'm terrified that it's all too much. But everything feels like it's going to always be too much. And I can continue living in fear – withdrawn and alone – or I can take a chance.

"I…I…I was telling the truth about cooking," I tell him, not meeting his eyes. "I don't know if…well, I was just wondering…it's normal for a friend to make another friend dinner, right?"

Oh, god.

I think I'm going to vomit in this coffee cup.

"Are you asking if you can make me dinner?" he asks, and I have to look at him.

When I do, he's smiling. It's big and soft, and he looks…he looks happy.

"Yeah," I tell him. "I guess I am."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you so much for reading. I'm so happy people are enjoying or relating to this story. Every single one of you blow me away. **

**Marvar, I love you. That's all. Thank you being my beta, and for being my friend. And thank you for not flouncing me when I decided to write a story that would post every single day. **

**#TeamAmazeballs Your encouragement and support have been wonderful. All of you are so fucking special. Raina, Jaime, Kourt and Laura…yeah, ILY.**

**See you in the morning!**


	10. Chapter 10

"It started raining on my way over here," he says as I open the door. He's wet – well, he's a little wet. His hair is damp and falling over his forehead, and I try to ignore the fact that he smells good. But he does. He smells really fucking good. "I didn't have an umbrella this time. And I…I didn't want to be late."

He's standing in the hallway. Edward is standing in _my_ hallway…and he's wet.

_Friends._

_Just friends._

"Oh, god," I say. "Please…come in. I'll get you a towel."

I walk to the linen closet in the hall and try to calm my beating heart. I'm not sure if this was a good idea, but it's too late to back out now. He's already here.

When I walk back into the living room, he's laughing softly.

"What?" I ask, handing him a towel. His hand brushes mine for just an instant, but it tingles. It's warm. "What are you laughing at?"

"You weren't lying about the lavender candles."

I laugh, too – in spite of myself and my nerves. And I try not to watch him as he towels the moisture from his hair and face.

"If you're feeling stressed, maybe you should light one," I tell him. "Hell, maybe we should light them all."

He chuckles again, turning to face me.

"Are you feeling stressed, Bella?"

"Maybe," I say. "A little."

"Don't," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

_Just friends._

"Okay," I lie. "I won't."

"Something smells wonderful."

"I'm pretty sure it's your cologne."

Oh, god…shut the fuck up, Bella.

"I'm pretty sure it's whatever you're making," he says, blushing.

Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I take the towel from his hands, needing something to do with mine. I feel my fingers tighten around the thick fabric, and I slowly take a deep breath.

"It's…ummm…" I look back up to him and then back down to the towel. Mortified. My knuckles are as white as the terrycloth. "Yeah…I made….well, I'm making puttanesca."

"I love pasta."

"Me, too."

When we finally sit down at my small kitchen table, I take a long drink of red wine, hoping it will calm my nerves. Edward follows suit, and I wonder if wine was a bad idea. I mean, wine seems too…I don't know…too romantic. Maybe I should have made tea.

He's not saying anything, and when I look over at him, he's looking at me. Intently.

It's scary.

It's unnerving.

"Your apartment is nice," he finally offers.

"It's small," I say, wincing as I realize I'm being a bitch again. "I mean…well, I guess it's okay."

"I like it."

"Thank you."

I take another drink, feeling the heat as it settles in the center of my stomach.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

His voice is like cotton – soft and comfortable. Soothing and warm. It makes me nervous…you know, the way I feel whenever he says anything.

"Yeah….I guess…I guess I'm just nervous. I haven't…well, it's been a long time since anyone other than my friends has been here. Actually, no one has ever been here before. Well, no one I didn't know before…." I stop mid-sentence. Not prepared to say the "D" word. "Well…yeah, this is all new to me."

"It's new to me, too."

Another silence fills the space as we both begin to eat. Although, I'm not really eating much. My stomach is in knots, and I'm wondering if it's the same for him.

"Should we just break the ice?" he asks. "You know…lay our stories out on the table? I can go first. I mean…I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Fuck.

"You don't really want to know my story."

He takes another drink, and I'm distracted by his lips on the rim of the wine glass.

"I do," he says. "I do want to know your story. I'd like to know…more about you."

And he's sitting too close to me. Even the table between us doesn't seem to offer enough space to make me comfortable.

"I don't know if I'm…" I tell him, my voice harsher than before. I swallow, trying to soothe my throat, feeling like I just swallowed shattered glass and not merlot. "I don't know if I'm ready to talk about all that yet. Can we…can we just not…you know…do that yet?"

I'm honest with him about not being ready. But I'm also afraid. I'm afraid that he will know my story and realize that there's something wrong with me. Just like…

"It's okay," he says. "You don't have to talk about it. But Bella…whenever you are, I want you to know that I will listen. I'm a good listener."

"You said that."

"I meant it."

I take another bite of the pasta, closing my eyes and trying to enjoy the flavor. It's good. It's been a long time since I actually cooked. His voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I open my eyes.

"You have a little something," he says, reaching out to me. I'm frozen and can't move. "Some sauce."

His thumb touches the corner of my mouth, wiping gently. It lingers there as he looks at my lips. And I'm looking at him, feeling the electric spark of his skin against mine. My heart is pounding, and I want to run away. But I also want to stay…and I'm just…I'm so fucking conflicted. Nervous and scared and more excited than I should allow myself to be.

His eyes flash to mine – so green and dark. And his cheeks are flushed like I feel. And I wonder if it's the wine…or if he's feeling like I'm feeling. And he looks back down to my mouth before slowly dragging his thumb across my bottom lip.

I can't breathe.

I can't fucking move.

"This doesn't feel like friends," I whisper so softly, I wonder if he even hears me.

He meets my eyes again, his thumb pulling from my lip, as his warm hand moves back and settles on the exposed column of my neck.

"What does it feel like?"

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you all for the response from last chapter. Progress is good, no? Seriously…all of you continue to blow me away with the support. **

**I love Marvar more than I love Edward or Rob. Need I say more? She = Best Beta Ever.**

**#TeamAmazeballs make me so happy! Raina, Kourt, Laura and Jaime…thank you for all the feedback and love. ILY guys!**

**See you in the morning!**


	11. Chapter 11

"Too much," I tell him, pulling away from him and his hand. Hating that I can actually feel the absence of him touching me. I push my chair back and it scrapes across the tile floor loudly. The sound is harsh – as harsh as my reaction. "This is all too much."

I stand from the table and walk away. Out of the kitchen and away from him. Away from the way that I'm feeling. But he follows right behind me. I can feel him behind me in the living room.

"Bella, I'm…"

"Don't tell me you're sorry," I say, tears springing into my eyes and sliding hotly down my cheeks. "Please don't tell me that you're sorry. This – _none of this_ – is your fault. This is all me. _All of it_. So, please…don't try to take the blame."

I turn around to face him. Because he needs to see this. He needs to see how fucked up I actually, really am. He needs to know, so he can just walk away now. That way, I can just go back to the way things were. Not expecting anything. Not wanting or needing anything more than myself. Because I can't risk wanting him. I just…I can't.

"Bella," he says, his stupid eyes soft and understanding. "I know what you're going through. I've been there."

"You think you know me?" I challenge him. "You think you know anything about me at all?"

"I don't…" he says. His posture is one of complete surrender. I can actually see him backing off. "That's not what I meant. It's not coming out right. I just know how you're feeling."

"Really?" I ask. "You do? Well, that's really fucking great. Was your wife your best friend? Like really…your best fucking friend? Did you love her completely? Trust her completely? Did you think that there was no way that she could ever hurt you? "

He's looking at me. Silent. Probably a little fucking scared. And the truth is – I'm scared, too. But I can't stop myself now. Because he needs to know.

And then he can walk away.

Just like Tyler.

"Did you feel her start to pull away and not know why she was doing it? Did you try everything within your power to make things in your marriage better? Did you believe her when she told you that everything was going to be fine? That she was just going through something, but that your love and your fucking history would be enough to make it through?"

The tears are coming out in hammering sobs and I can't stop it. It's like this levee that just breaks inside me and everything is gushing out.

Ruining and devastating any and every chance I had at being normal and okay.

"Bella, please…"

"No, Edward….really," I sob. "Did you try to change to accommodate her? Like your _actual_ self? Did you try to connect with her intimately? Only to feel like she wasn't even there when she was fucking you? Or that _you_ weren't there? That you were just a body she was using to get off until….until…she fucked someone else? So many someone elses, that when you finally found out what she was doing and who she was doing it with…the number made you vomit?"

"Oh, god," he whispers. "Bella."

"No, Edward," I snap. "You said you knew what I was feeling. Do you really?"

I feel sick to my stomach. I haven't talked about any of this to anyone except Renata. And I'm telling him everything.

_Everything._

"There were so many women, Edward. He fucked so many women. Women I knew! People that were a part of my life. And he did it while he was still fucking me at home. On occasion. You know…whenever he felt like it." I laughed bitterly. "When he had nothing better to do. And I let him. Because I loved and trusted him. And he destroyed me."

He closes the space between us and reaches out to me. And even though I shouldn't, I let him take me in his arms. And a part of me is wondering why. Why is he doing this? Why is he still here?

"He didn't destroy you," he tells me, as I cry into his shirt. "You're still here. You're still standing."

"I had to be tested," I admit. "I'd been married for nine years and I had to go to a doctor and be tested for STD's. Do you know how that made me feel? Do you know what that did to me? How ashamed I was? I was always faithful. And I…I just wasn't enough."

And with those words, I finally let go of everything I've been holding back. Everything I've been keeping secret because I was so ashamed.

And I cry.

And fucking cry some more.

I don't know how long we stand there - Edward holding me, and me weeping like hungry baby with no bottle. But we do. He does. He stands there and he's not running away. Maybe he's just waiting for me to calm down. Maybe he doesn't know what to say about everything I just confessed. And that only makes me cry more. But the truth is out there now. I have nothing left to hide, and when he walks away, at least I'll know it wasn't because I couldn't be honest.

I can feel the gentle, soothing strokes of his hands on my back. I can feel the warmth and the weight of him as he embraces me. And all too soon…the tears slow and then stop. I don't want to pull away from him because I know that all of this – whatever this was – will be over. So, I allow myself a few more moments of feeling him. His breath, his steady beating heart…his comfort.

"I think I'm done with that now," I say, pulling back and looking up at him. "I know that when you…you know…you asked me to tell you mine…you weren't expecting anything like that. It's okay if you…if you want to go."

His thumb – the same thumb that wiped sauce from my lips a little while ago – reaches up and wipes the tears from my cheek. And I don't allow myself to think that it means anything more than a gesture of kindness from a good man. And he is…he's a good man.

His other hand reaches up, and he's cupping my face in his palms.

I can't breathe.

And more than that, I can't understand why he's still here.

"Do I look like I want to go anywhere?"

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**I'll just be over here hiding and waiting to know what you think. **

**Thank you for all the love and support. I adore each and every one of you.**

**Marvar is a goddess and I couldn't do this without her. I love her more than New Moon Edward loved tweed. And more than the wolf pack loves jorts. **

**#TeamAmazeballs owns my ass. Raina, Laura, Jaime and Kourt, thank you for your encouragement, feedback and support. **

**See you in the morning!**


	12. Chapter 12

"You look different," Renata says, and I look down at myself, thinking I'm wearing the same thing as usual. "I'm not talking about your clothes."

She laughs softly.

I assume my regular position, covering myself with the blanket.

"Do you think that I can have this?" I ask. "You know…when I'm all finished with therapy?"

"You're deflecting again."

I am.

"No, I'm not."

"You don't really want the blanket, Bella," she says. "And if you do, they sell them at Pottery Barn."

"You shop at Pottery Barn?"

She doesn't acknowledge my question. She makes a note in my file instead. I'm pretty sure she does it to piss me off.

I wait for her to look at me. When she doesn't, I start talking.

"I went back to group again."

"And how was that?"

"There was a woman there," I tell her. "Her husband cheated on her, and she talked about it."

"And how did that make you feel?"

I take a deep breath, and I wonder when I will ever feel comfortable talking about myself. About this. To anyone.

"It made me feel bad for her…for me. You know?" I say, chewing on my thumbnail. "I mean…at first I was shocked that she was talking about it. Her…her situation wasn't the same as mine. But it was. I don't know if I can explain it. But she stood up and just said it. She talked about how he cheated on her. How it changed her life…and how it made her feel. And I was…does it seem strange if I tell you that I was proud of her?"

"Why would that seem strange?"

"I don't know," I say, blowing a strand of hair from my face. "I mean…I was just sitting there, listening to her…and she was like me. You know? And she was fine. I mean…probably not fine. But she was there. She was strong."

"Sharing with anyone takes strength."

Her words make me think of Edward and how I told him my story. I don't know if I'm ready to talk to her about that yet. I don't know what she'll think.

"I hugged her," I admit. "After the session, I just went up to her and hugged her."

"You did?" she asks. "I'm surprised."

I smile in spite of myself.

"I was surprised, too. I think…I don't know…I think I wanted to thank her, you know?"

"For sharing her story?"

She makes another note, and this time – for whatever reason – it doesn't piss me off.

"No. I don't know…for making me feel…for just a few seconds…that it was okay to feel a little proud of myself. You know….for being able to stand up and talk in the group, too."

Renata looks at me for a long moment. Her expression is unreadable. I want for just one moment to know what it is she's thinking about me. Like, I need to know that she thinks there's…you know…hope or whatever. And just when I feel the anxiety twisting in the pit of my stomach and I'm about to panic, she smiles.

"I'm so glad to hear you say that, Bella," she says.

"Yeah?" I say, smiling.

"Yes."

There's a long moment of silence while she writes. I try not to over-think everything. What I'm feeling. What she's writing. The fact that for the first time in months, I feel okay. Not great, but just okay.

"So, what else?" she asks suddenly, looking up at me.

"What do you mean?"

"I told you earlier. You seem…different."

How does she do that?

Fucking truth serum.

"I talked to Edward again," I tell her.

It's not a lie.

It's not the complete truth either, but I try not to think about that.

"You're smiling."

"I am?"

"Yes," she says. "How was _talking_ to Edward?"

The way she says it makes me think she knows there's more. But she can't know that, can she?

"It was alright." Another lie. "It was good."

"Good," she repeats, without inflection.

"I invited him to dinner."

Her eyebrows raise and to be honest, it's the first time I've ever seen her show shock on her face. It makes me nervous. And I don't know why it makes me nervous. But I want her to think I'm doing the right things. I need her to eventually tell me that I'm okay. You know…_really_ okay. Normal.

But she doesn't say anything.

Still nothing.

"He came over. And I made him dinner. You know…because I told him I liked to cook. At first, I was really nervous. I mean…well, I guess I was nervous the whole time. But then…"

I stop. I don't know why I stop, but I just do. Just thinking about what happened that night makes me feel like a million things.

Embarrassment.

Sadness.

Anger.

Heat.

"Then…?" she probes.

"Then he asked me if I wanted to share my story. Well, he asked me if we could both share our stories."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"It freaked me the fuck out," I tell her.

"So you pushed him away."

She says it like a statement. Not even a question.

"I can't even get mad that you think that," I tell her, laughing. Kind of. I look down at my hands and I keep talking. "I was going to run away from him that night. Hell, I tried to. But I didn't. He didn't let me. And for the first time in over a year…I told someone what happened. Well, someone that I'm not paying to listen to me."

I look back up at her and smile.

"You shared your story with him?" she asks. "Everything?"

"Yeah," I say. "Everything. All of it."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Honestly?"

"Well, I don't think you should be paying me to listen if you're not going to tell me the truth," she says with a wink.

_She winked?_

Maybe she's alright.

"It made me feel awful…but I did it. I told him…you everything. All the things I was so…so ashamed of. All of it. And I think…I think I did it to make him run. To scare him."

"Because you still think you're unworthy?"

Maybe.

"No."

"And what happened when you told him everything?"

"He didn't."

"What?"

I pull my knees to my chest, hugging them close to my body, and remembering the way it felt when Edward held me this close.

"He didn't run."

"How did that make you feel, Bella?"

"Good," I tell her. "It made me feel good."

She writes something down and smiles.

"Let's explore that."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Wow. Just wow. I'm still amazed and overwhelmed by everyone's response. You have no idea how much it means that Solstice is resonating with so many people. *squishy hugs to all of you***

**I love Marvar more than Summit loves bad wigs. And more than she loves classic (and by classic, I mean 90's) R&B songs. *sings* Let me lick you up and down…**

**#TeamAmazeballs is still amazing. Best pre-readers ever. Raina, Kourt, Laura and Jaime. **

**PS: Happy birthday to Kourt17! I hope you had 10 drinks and at least one 10 inch cock.**

**See you in the morning!**


	13. Chapter 13

"Hi…umm…hello, Bella." I hear his voice on my voicemail and my stomach immediately flip-flops. "It's Edward." He tells me this like I'd have no idea who he is. Like his voice isn't burned into my brain or whatever. You know, along with the image of his lips on my wine glass. Or the way he smells when he's wet with rain. "I was wondering… Well, there's this small coffee house downtown. Blue Java. Have you heard of it? Anyway…yeah, I was just wondering if you wanted to…you know, maybe meet me there this evening. It's quiet. We could talk. Or you know…whatever you wanted. So, yeah…just call me. Or text me. Or just…come. Yeah, just come. I'll be there. At seven." There's a long pause, and I'm holding my breath, wondering if he's going to say something else. He does. "I really hope you'll come."

I listen to it again before I get back to work. Okay, I listen to it three times. And I panic a little. Well, maybe a lot. I wonder if I should call Renata and ask if I can see her today. But then I think that she's probably fully booked and taking notes on other people.

Crazy people.

People who can't just go and have a cup of coffee with someone.

But he's not just someone, is he?

Fuck.

Shaking my head, I hide my phone in the bottom drawer of my desk, so I won't be tempted to listen to the message on repeat all day. I look at it again, before covering it with a bunch of files and my purse. And then I lock it. Yeah, that will keep me from thinking about him. And coffee. And coffee with him.

The rest of the day passes. I force myself to stay busy, remain focused. But even then…all along, he's there. His message is there…in the back of my mind. He called me. Asked me out. After I had a complete and total meltdown. After I told him everything.

He's still there.

By the time I leave work, it's almost six. And I still haven't decided if I'm going to go. Well, I've decided…and then changed my mind. Like fifty fucking times. I even googled Blue Java. I've never been there, but it's pretty close to where we meet for group. And I reason with myself that it's not too far out of the way. I could just maybe walk in that direction. See how I'm feeling when I get there.

Yeah.

That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to walk. Just walk.

By the time I'm two blocks away, I realize my heart is beating so fast, I'm actually winded. I stop, taking a deep breath, and watching everyone in the city as they pass me by. No one seems to notice me. And everyone seems busy…normal. Like none of them are having a panic attack. None of them are obsessing about what they're going to be doing this evening.

Pretty sure that's just me.

And I think that this shouldn't be so hard. It's fucking coffee. It's not even a real date. We've already had dinner. This should be easy. Nothing, really. But it is. This is something. To me, this is something. It's huge. It's a big fucking deal.

And I wonder what Edward's thinking. Is this a big deal for him? Did he obsess before calling me and leaving me that wonderful, awkward message? I reach in my bag and pull out my phone. And in the middle of the sidewalk, with people passing by and going about their lives, I listen to his message again.

"Hi…umm…hello, Bella. It's Edward."

His voice is like silk pulled tight across my skin.

Smooth and soft and yes… he's nervous.

He was nervous, too.

So, I hit the end button. And I deliberately take steps forward. Looking down at my own feet and willing them to go. And they do.

They _totally_ do.

I see the coffee house in the distance. It's only a few buildings down. I wonder if he's already there, and looking down at my watch, I see that it's five minutes till seven. He probably is. He's probably there with his perfect hair and his lips and his voice…and the soft pads of his thumbs.

All of him is there.

Waiting for me.

Wondering if I'll come.

And I'm still standing outside like a freak.

But I don't have to be a freak. I don't have to be her at all. I could be strong. I could walk in and be brave. I could do for him what he's done for me. I could show up. And maybe I could smile.

I could totally do all of those things.

And fuck me, if I'm not going to.

Standing in front of the building, I look through the windows. The light is soft and yellow. It casts a subtle glow on the street. And it's just like he said. Quiet and low key…without a lot of people. A place I would be comfortable in. And I wonder if he even likes this place. I wonder if he chose this place because he thought that I would like it. And I do. Looking at it, I do. I wonder why the fuck I've never been here before.

It's kind of perfect.

And _he's_ kind of perfect for choosing it.

Of course, maybe I'm reading way too much into this. I mean, come the fuck on. It's a coffee house. Jesus Christ, when did I become such an obsessive, over-thinking loser?

I open the door and step inside. My legs feel weak and my heart is pounding. I'm looking at my feet, but I force myself to look up and around. I scan the tables and there are a few people scattered around. Some small groups drinking and talking. Some people alone and reading or on their laptops.

But there's no perfect hair.

There's no green eyes meeting mine.

There's no Edward.

He didn't come.

I tell myself to shut the fuck up and stop being such a fucking cry-baby…you know, because I'm a couple minutes early. That seems to work for like a second, but standing there in the middle of the room alone makes my chest ache. And for a moment, I know it's not because I'm alone. It's because _he's_ not here.

I wanted to see him.

I really fucking wanted to see him.

"Bella, you came," his voice speaks softly behind me. "I'm really glad you came."

And turning around, everything I was too afraid to tell myself I wanted is standing there in front of me.

Perfect hair.

Green eyes.

Stupid, pretty lips.

And even the soft pads of his thumbs as his hand reaches out to mine.

And I let him take it.

"I'm glad you came, too."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**I know I sound like a broken record, but yeah…I love each person reading this fic. And those of you who are sharing any part of your personal stories with me…I just wish I could give you all a big hug. Thank you so much. **

**I love Marvar more than Laurent hates wearing shirts. (Seriously. What's that about?) Thank you so much for everything, soulmate.**

**#TeamAmazeballs owns my substantial ass. ILYSFM! Raina, Kourt, Laura and Jaime.**

**See you in the morning!**


	14. Chapter 14

He leads me to a small table he was already sitting at in the back corner of the room. And I can't stop the laugh that escapes me, as I realize that he was already here. And I just didn't look back. And the irony isn't lost on me, because I'm all about the looking back.

"What are you laughing at?" he asks as we sit down.

He takes his hand from mine, and while the not touching is comfortable to me…I miss it. His warmth.

"Nothing," I say quickly.

"Nothing?" he asks. "I don't believe you."

I look across the small table at him and smile. I hope it doesn't look as crazy as it feels.

"I was just…" I pause, feeling my feet shuffle nervously under the table. "I was just…well, I was laughing because when I first came in…I thought you weren't here."

"And that was funny?" he chuckles.

I feel the flush cover my face, and I'm pretty sure that every limb on my body is numb from nervousness.

"No," I tell him. "It was funny…because you were. I mean…I mean you are."

His eyes widen a bit and I realize that I sound like the idiot I am.

"I don't know which is worse," he says, smiling. "You laughing because I'm here…or you laughing because I'm not."

"That's not what I mean," I tell him, looking down. "It was…it was more about me. Like I was nervous or something. Like, I thought you didn't come…but you were really here all along. And it was just…I was just…stupid really."

"Hey," he says. I don't look up at him because now I feel ridiculous. But he reaches across the table. Slowly. So fucking slowly. And he brushes the back of my clasped hands, rubbing. You know, really softly. I look up at him and fuck me…the way he looks makes me die a little. Sweet and concerned. And just so fucking like him. His ex-wife must have been a goddamn idiot. "You're not stupid."

His words are so genuine, that I can't even say anything sarcastic. And I wonder how he does that. How the fuck does he disarm me so easily?

It's…well, it's disarming. For lack of a better and more creative word.

A woman comes over to take our order. She's young and short and cute and bubbly. And everything about her is perky.

Everything.

She asks what I'm drinking and I tell her. And then she smiles at Edward, while she twirls a strand of her short, dark hair around her finger. He orders a cappuccino, and she gushes about his drink order. Seriously. She gushes.

_It's a cappuccino, little girl. _

_What are you? Twelve?_

_Back the fuck off._

My ridiculous thoughts scare me, and I pull my hand away from Edward's. I have no right to feel possessive of him in any way. He doesn't belong to me. In fact, when I think about it, he should probably be with someone more like her anyway. Well, someone who's happy and probably not fucked up. Although, maybe a grown-up and not this…this fetus.

And just when I'm beginning to think that all of this is a mistake, Edward looks at me, and then back to my hand. He smiles and it's real. Not contrived in any way. And I can't look away as he deliberately reaches back over and puts his hand on mine. And the whole fucking time, he's looking at me. Me…and not the perky fetus. I mean waitress. Whatever.

"How was your day?" he asks.

It's a simple question, you know? And just…normal. I briefly think that Renata would ask me to define normal, so I bite my lip, try not to smile and I just answer him.

"It was good," I say, trying not to look at his hand on mine. Even though every part of my arm is tingling down to the tips of my fingers. "Long."

"Why was it long?"

Because I couldn't stop thinking about you.

"You know…work," I say dismissively. "What about you? How was your day?"

I feel his thumb slide across the back of my hand. It's soft and feels good. And I try to remember if I used lotion the night before. I really hope I did.

"My day was long, too," he says. "I couldn't…"

He stops mid-sentence and I wonder what he was going to say.

"You couldn't what?"

He looks serious for a moment, and I wonder what he's thinking. And I panic because I feel like whatever he wanted to say was probably bad.

_Fuck, it was bad, wasn't it?_

He takes a deep breath.

"Can I be honest with you?" he says, his voice quiet and questioning.

Maybe.

"Yes."

"I'm afraid if I tell you the truth…it's just…" he stops again, clearly trying to choose his words.

"Just say it," I snap, not meaning to sound so harsh, but his nervousness and uncertainty is making me feel raw and exposed.

"I'm just…I don't," he says, his eyes still penetrating mine. "I don't want to say something to scare you, Bella. I feel like I'm always saying the wrong things."

"You're not," I whisper.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck it," he says, blushing. And I die. "I was just going to say that my day was long because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

He squeezes my hand gently as he says it. And there's not an ounce of insincerity in his voice. And for a second, I feel like it can't possibly be true. He couldn't really have thought about me all day like I did him. But the moment passes, and he's still here. Still looking at me the same way.

"I hid my phone," I blurt out.

I cringe like the fucking idiot I am…and he smiles.

He grins.

"What?" he laughs. "Why did you hide your phone?"

My cheeks burn…you know, from the blush or the smile.

Whatever.

"Because you were in it," I say quickly. "I mean on it. Fuck, I mean…I meant your message was on it. And I needed to focus. And well, I couldn't really…yeah. So, I had to hide it."

Oh my god.

Could I sound more like a stammering moron?

I shouldn't be allowed in public.

The waitress comes back with our drinks, and for the first time tonight, I'm happy for her to be here. I need the interruption. But Edward doesn't acknowledge her. Not once. Not as she gives us our drinks or asks if we need anything else.

He just looks at me.

The whole time.

Smiling.

And even though all of this makes me nervous and a little sick to my stomach, I can't help but smile back.

"Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you're here."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**I'm currently home dying with a sinus infection. So, I have no witty comments or funny things to say. Just thank you for reading. So much.**

**I love Marvar more than I love my antibiotics and my bed. And I love both of them a lot right now.**

**#TeamAmazeballs Thank you for everything. And for your support and willingness to be in my gang. LOL Raina, Kourt, Laura and Jaime, I love you all.**

**See you in the morning!**


	15. Chapter 15

"My name is Carlisle," a blonde man says as he stands.

I haven't seen him before. I would definitely remember seeing him. He's handsome. Really handsome. You know, not _Edward_ handsome. But still.

My eyes quickly shoot to the other side of the room where Edward is sitting. He doesn't see me, and I wonder if he knows I'm here. I feel like I always know he's here. Like, I just feel him. We don't sit together here. We never have. It just…it wouldn't feel right. And I know that we're just friends, but it feels like there's something more there. None of my other friends make me feel the way he makes me feel.

The thought of him being more, of him meaning more to me makes me nervous. Panicked.

Like if he's more…he has the potential to hurt me.

I quickly look back down to my lap and listen to the man speaking.

"I haven't been here in a while. I thought I was handling everything okay. I thought was doing better, you know? But this week I found out that my wife…I mean my ex-wife…well, I found out she was getting married. To my best friend."

He looks down as he smoothes the invisible crease in his sweater. His hands are shaking.

"Although, I guess he's not really my best friend anymore. I don't know when they started seeing each other. She swears it wasn't while we were still married. When she…when she first told me she was leaving, she said that it was because she wasn't happy in our marriage. She said…that I wasn't a good husband.

"I was always working, you know. I'm a doctor. And I was always on call or at the hospital. But I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was giving her the life she wanted. But I guess…I guess she wanted something else. It just wasn't me. It was him."

His voice is completely controlled, but it's so sad. I can hear his anguish. I can see it in everything about him. His posture…his quiet demeanor…and even his impeccable attire. And his sweater is grey.

Just like mine.

"I don't know how to handle this news," he continues. "I don't know how I'm supposed to go to work every day and see the same people that I know…that we knew together. I don't know how I'm supposed to pretend that it's okay that the woman I was in love with for twenty-seven years is in love with someone else. Is happy with someone else."

He looks up, and Didyme speaks.

"It's a process," she says softly. Her voice is the same as before, but it's doesn't irritate me. When I see her now, I see someone like me. Someone who's been hurt. "You don't have to pretend, Carlisle. You just take every day as it comes. And you move forward…just like she has."

"But I don't want to move forward," he says, his voice cracking. "I wanted her to realize she'd made a mistake. I wanted her to come to her senses…and then come back to me. I would have taken her back. I would still take her back."

My heart breaks for him. I can feel his hurt. I can't really understand it…because after Tyler did what he did, I didn't want him again. I couldn't even stand to think about him without getting sick.

I wait for the anxiety to hit me the way it always does…and then nothing.

There's nothing.

No panic.

No nausea.

There's just me, sitting here in this room full of strangers who all have something in common, trying to cope as best as I can.

Trying to move on.

And for a moment – _just for a moment_ – I feel like maybe I am.

Carlisle sits down, clearly shaken, and Didyme asks who else would like to speak. Before I can stop myself, I'm standing up.

Like a goddamn idiot.

I momentarily freak out. Like, I literally lose my shit. I feel my heart pounding in my chest and the eyes of everyone in the room on me. But I feel two eyes in particular. Green eyes. And even though I can't look at him…I know he's watching me. Supporting me.

"My name is Bella," I say quietly. "I've been...this is my fourth week here. Wow. I can't believe it's been a whole month."

I can't look up. I swear to god, it's like I'm talking to my shoes.

"I didn't…I didn't want to come here. You know…in the beginning. And every week there's a part of me that still doesn't want to come. To be here at all. But there's this other part of me. This part that remembers who I was. And I guess that's not even the right thing to say. It's that I remember who I am. Who I _really_ am…you know, maybe not so deep down inside."

I look up, and I can't help it…my eyes shift over to Edward. And he's looking at me. He's looking at me with his soft green eyes – the same soft green eyes that have seen me at my worst. At my most vulnerable. Crying and shaking and still fucking broken.

And he's still here.

He's still listening and not running away.

He's still letting me be exactly who I am – who I need to be right now.

"And who I am is someone who still struggles. Someone who's still bitter."

I look back down because looking at him feels like I'm talking to him. And talking to him here in front of all these people seems too revealing. Too fucking real.

"But someone told me that I was strong. That I was still standing…and not fucking broken. Yes, my heart was broken…but not me. I'm not. I'm here. And every day I get a little stronger. Every day I smile a little more. Every day is another day closer to not feeling damaged. To not feeling used. And every day is better than it was the day before."

I'm crying again. And as much as it pisses me off, I know that I can't help it. Renata would tell me that this is all a part of healing.

Fucking Renata.

She's always fucking right.

"So…I'm still here. And I just wanted you to know that you – all of you – have helped me in some way. You're…you're helping me still. Yeah…that's all."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for reading. Truly, all of you continue to amaze me every single day. *squishy, non-contagious hugs***

**Marvar is my soulmate and I love her more than Rhage loves Mary. I can reference BDB now, since she's reading the books. **

**#TeamAmazeballs continues to love and support me like crazy and I don't know what I'd do without them. Raina, Jaime, Kourt and Larua…ILY like whoa. **

**See you in the morning!**


	16. Chapter 16

"Did you want to stay?" he asks me.

We're both standing by the table, looking at the coffee. He's close – right next to me. But he's not touching me. And for a second, I feel this overpowering urge to just reach out and take his hand.

But that would be stupid.

That would be really, really stupid.

"Did you?" I ask. "I mean…do you want to stay?"

I look up at him and my heart…my heart and my ridiculous body just…it just responds to him. His presence…just him.

"I was wondering if maybe…" he pauses, nervous and unsure. "I was hoping that we could talk."

And immediately my head goes someplace bad. Someplace dark. I don't know why it does it. Why I think that Edward wanting to talk to me about anything would be bad. But I know this feeling. I'm scared. And the fact that I'm scared…well, it terrifies me. What if he wants to tell me that I'm – all of my baggage – is too much? What if he wants to tell me that I'm really as fucked up as I think I am?

Oh, god.

What if….

"Did you want to…I don't know…go somewhere else?" I ask, my voice shaking a little bit.

"Yeah," he says. "I would. I was thinking maybe…maybe your place. Or we could go to mine. Or we could go somewhere else. You know…anywhere else that makes you comfortable?"

"Is this bad?" I blurt out. You know, because I'm still a goddamn idiot. His eyes widen and I notice his hand twitch at his side. "Oh, god. This is bad, isn't it? I didn't mean to…I mean, when I said what I said back there. About you. Well, it wasn't really about you…but I mean, I guess some of it was. I didn't mean to freak you out. I mean…I just…I wanted you to know. That you've helped me or whatever."

_Seriously, Bella._

_Shut the fuck up._

But I can't. And he just keeps looking at me. And in my own neurotic need to somehow make this better, I keep talking.

"And now you think I'm some needy, desperate loser."

And then everything happens in slow motion. I watch as Edward reaches out to me with his hand and his really long fingers. And I'm panicked – not because I think he's going to touch me – but because I think he's going to touch me to calm me down. Because I'm crazy and need to be calmed down. But when his hand touches my shoulder, I forget every single thing I was thinking. And I can only focus on the way his warm hand feels as it grips me gently, instantly calming me, before sliding all the way down my arm.

"I don't think that at all," he says, laughing nervously. "I think…I think…"

"What?" I whisper.

"I think we should get out of here."

And then we do.

The night is cool as we walk outside. I can't help but think about how this is so different from the first time we walked together. Different, yet somehow, it's still the same. I'm still a nervous wreck, but this time, he's touching me. Holding my hand. Like really…he's holding it. Fingers twined with slightly sweaty palms.

"How are you?" he asks.

I look up at him and he's smiling and that makes me smile.

"I'm fine," I say, realizing really quickly that I just lied. "No…I'm good. I'm really good."

And even saying it sounds strange. But even more strange – even more unsettling – is the fact that it's true. I do. I do feel really good. Nervous, but yeah…good.

Wow. How long has that been?

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

"You look good," he says, immediately blushing.

"So do you."

We stop walking. Well, he stops, kind of suddenly. And I stumble gracelessly beside him. Gripping his hand, I steady myself as he watches me.

"Are you sure you're really looking at me?" he asks.

His voice is slightly playful, but there's something else there. Something not so deep beneath the surface. And it makes my chest ache. And I wonder how it's possible that he can make me feel so many things all at once.

"Yeah," I say, feeling my cheeks burn, trying really hard to ignore the same burning I feel deep in the pit of my stomach. "I'm really looking."

And I'm holding my breath, not knowing why. But something about this moment seems different. Something about this very moment with him seems right and wrong…too much, and at the same time not enough.

"What do you see, Bella?" he asks. His eyes are more serious than before. And for the first time since I've known him, this moment seems to be about him…and not about me. "When you look at me…I mean, if you're really looking at me…what do you see?"

And I know that there's no right answer to this question. Because honestly, I don't know what I see when I look at him. But I can't stand here like an idiot with no voice, when he's standing here in front of me asking. So, I take a deep breath, and then…

"You're asking me to tell you what I see when I look at you. And I don't know what I can say to that. Maybe it's because I'm not sure. And maybe it's because the majority of the time I've known you…I've spent most of the time avoiding looking at you."

His soft expression is different now. I can feel the tension in his hand that's still holding mine. So, I squeeze his palm gently, offering him what little comfort I have to give. It isn't much. And it's nowhere near enough. Not in comparison to everything he's offered me.

"I see someone who's persistent," I continue. "Someone who hasn't allowed me to hide away anymore….even though it was the only thing I wanted to do. And you didn't judge me…I mean, you haven't. So, when I look at you, Edward. When I _really_ look at you…like…like I am now…I see someone who has been…someone who _is_ my…my friend."

I suck in air, wondering if what I said was enough. Hoping it was, because I want him to know what he's done for me. What he's still doing for me.

He reaches up with his free hand. It's shaking, you know, like every part of my body. And then, he brushes my hair from my face. And for the first time, I don't jump when he touches me. Well, my heart does. But I don't flinch…I'm not scared.

"That's the problem, Bella," he whispers. And even over the sounds of the city, I hear him. "I don't want to be your friend."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you so much for still reading. And for loving this story. And Bella and Edward. If I could, I would smoosh all of you into my boobs. You know…if you were into that.**

**Thank you to Marvar, who loves me just as I am. And I love her so much, that if she were going through her needing, and I had a HUGE cock, I would totally service her.**

**Thank you to the beautiful jaimearkin who wrote a lovely review for Solstice on The Lemonade Stand for Fic of the Week. And thank you to each of you who voted for this story.**

**#TeamAmazeballs is so wonderful and this story is better because of them. Raina, Kourt, Laura and Jaime…IFLY. You feel me, true?**


	17. Chapter 17

I'm standing here, still…frozen. His words run through my mind over and over again. Like I didn't understand what he said. Like I couldn't possibly understand what he means.

"You…you…" I stammer. "You don't want to be my friend?"

My lip quivers, my stupid eyes water. And I fucking _knew_ I was right after group. A man telling you he wants to talk is never a good thing.

_This is bad._

_This is really, really bad. _

His hands are still touching me. And it's gentle and soft. Just like he's always been with me.

"No, Bella," he says. "You don't understand me."

"No," I tell him, pulling back and away from his touch. "I don't. And I should. I should have expected this…but you know what, I didn't. I really fucking didn't."

I turn on my heel, trying to look around and gain my bearings. I hear him say my name behind me, but I don't turn back . I can't. I was so fucking stupid to think that this time he could be different. Him with his sweet words and understanding. Him with his soft eyes and tender touches.

And I thought I was getting so much better. I thought I was finally getting to a place where it was going to be okay. He had heard my story. He knew everything about me and he was still there. Looking at me…holding my hand…and wanting to be my friend.

Well, men are fucking assholes.

And just when you think that one of them might not be, they go and prove you wrong. Just because they fucking can.

Just as I'm about to run away, I hear Edward's voice behind me. And then I feel his hand wrap tightly around my wrist. Holding me, stopping me from moving.

"Bella, stop," he says. "You…you can't keep doing this."

Whirling around, I face him. I look him in the eyes, even though every part of my being wants to hide. To look down and not let him see me this way. Weak and crying and still the same woman that would allow a man to make her feel so broken.

"I'm not doing anything," I tell him.

"You're running," he says. "You're always fucking running."

"I'm just giving you what you want," I tell him bitterly. "I mean, I wasn't the one standing here telling you that I didn't want to be your friend. You know, after I'd done nothing but tell you for the last month that I was."

"Just stop," he says. He's not backing down and I can feel the heat from his hand still around my wrist. "Please, just listen to me for one minute. Just…just stop."

And there's something about his voice that makes me still – makes me stay right here in front of him.

"What?" I ask. "Why? Why do you want me to stop?"

He looks at me, his eyes wide and more brilliant and green than I've ever seen them. His cheeks are flushed and he's breathing harder than before.

"You…" he pauses. "You're…you're just…"

"What?" I demand. "What? What am I?"

_Crazy?_

"You're infuriating," he states, his voice irritated and sharper than usual.

And his words are like a slap. Right across my face. And they sting just as much as an actual hit would.

And like the child that I feel like, I respond.

"Well, you…you're just mean."

I feel like I should stomp my foot to make my point, but I'm pretty sure he gets it when stupid fucking tears fill my eyes. And I'm crying now. Not because I'm embarrassed…even though I am. But because Edward just told me I was infuriating.

A mess.

Too much to deal with.

Because, let's face it. I completely am. And I knew that all of this would catch up to me. My baggage is too heavy. And I need to be okay with carrying it on my own.

"That's not what I mean."

"Yeah," I tell him, looking down at his hand that's still holding onto me. "Because there are so many ways to interpret the word 'infuriating.' Well, I'm sorry I'm _infuriating_, Edward. But you don't have to worry about that anymore."

I pull my wrist from his hand, and I quickly wipe my face. I look down because I just can't look at him anymore. I can't…and I'm not going to.

"Jesus Christ," he says, reaching out to take my hands. Both of them in his. And I'm so confused because why does he want to touch me at all? "Look at me."

"No."

"Bella, look at me."

His voice is soft, but firm. There's heat there…maybe anger. But when I raise my eyes to his, he doesn't look angry. He looks… He looks… Well, I don't know what he fucking looks like. But his eyes are dark, and he doesn't look angry.

"Yes, you're infuriating. I never know what you're going to say…and you always pull away the moment you get scared. And I get that…really, I do," he says. He steps in closer to me, and even though his body isn't touching mine, I can feel him against every inch of me. "But you're also strong and courageous…and amazing…and god, you're beautiful. You're…you're so fucking beautiful, Bella."

"Stop," I whisper, not believing his words.

He doesn't mean them.

He just can't.

"No. I'm not stopping. And I'm not letting you run away. Not this time."

"You told me you didn't want to be my friend."

He swallows loudly. Like, I hear it. I watch as his tongue wets his lips…and why the fuck am I watching this? But I am…I can't look away.

"I don't," he says softly. "I don't want to be your friend, Bella. I want…I want to be more."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**There are no words for the way all of you have made me smile with your response to this story. None. I can't tell you how much I appreciate every review, every tweet…and every single reader. All I have is, "Thank you." And of course boob smooshing.**

**Marvar is better than everything. I talk all the time about what a wonderful beta she is. And she's totally the best. But she's also my friend. One of my best friends. And I love her. That's all.**

**#TeamAmazeballs makes me want to write every single day. They are that encouraging. And if you love this fic at all…odds are, they had something to do with it. Raina, Laura, Kourt and Jaime, IFLY like whoa. **

**See you in the morning!**


	18. Chapter 18

"I'm a mess," I tell him, looking down at our hands. They look good together. You know, like they fit or something. "You don't really want to be with me."

"Look at me, Bella," he says, and I close my eyes, not ready to meet his yet. Not sure what I want to see in them. "Please. Look at me."

He squeezes my hand gently, and then I do it. I look up. And I see him. Not just his eyes, which are absolutely sincere, but just him. Just Edward.

"I do," he says. "I want to be with you. And I'm willing to take it slow, but I couldn't…I just…I need you to know the truth. I mean…what I want."

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I keep hearing his words over and over again in my mind.

"_I want to be with you."_

And that scares me. It terrifies me, really. Because I thought that someone wanted to be with me once. I thought that he wanted to share a life with me. That he wanted me…just me. But he didn't. He didn't really want me. And even though Edward's eyes and mouth are telling me one thing, I can't trust that he actually believes it. You know…in his heart.

"You don't really know me," I tell him. "And I don't really know you. I mean…really, I don't actually know anything about you. How can I…I mean, what am I…"

"Bella, calm down," he says. "I can tell you. I can tell you anything you want to know. And you're wrong. I _do_ know you. Not everything. Not all of it. But I'm telling you that I _want _to know. I'm willing to…try. I just…I just can't go another day without you knowing…you know, the way that I feel. I want to be your friend. But I want more than that. And it feels like I'm lying to you…by not telling you. And after… Well, I never want to lie to you."

For a second, I believe that he doesn't.

That he won't.

But it's just a second…and it passes.

He steps in closer. Our hands are still together between us, and I have this urge to pull away. But I also have this urge to wrap my arms around him…and hold him close to me. But only one of those urges is safe. One of them makes me weak. One of them gives him the power to hurt me. And I can't go through that again. I just…I can't.

So, I step back.

And it fucking kills me.

"Do you mind if we keep walking?" I ask.

He sighs, and I know that I'm hurting him. And it's crazy, you know? I ache because I'm hurting him. Like, somehow, I think it would be better for me to be the one hurting. Like it would be easier to cope with. I know how to handle my pain. I don't know how to handle his.

"We can walk," he says, squeezing my hand.

We move forward, our hands still joined. And the silence is awkward now…weighted. And because I'm crazy and can't deal with it, I ask him, "Why did you get divorced?"

I wince as the words come out of my mouth, and for a while, he doesn't say anything. But he takes a deep breath, and then he starts speaking.

"What I said in group was true," he admits. "My wife and I grew apart. She wasn't in love with me. And I…I guess I wasn't really in love with her."

"So, it wasn't your gigantic coc…" I gasp as the words slip from my mouth, and I blush in embarrassment and absolute mortification. I pull out of his grip and cover my face with both of my hands. "Oh, god."

And the sound of his laughter fills the air around us. It's loud and surprised…and just perfect. And before I realize what's happening – before I even try to stop it – I find myself laughing, too. And it's just as loud as him…and maybe just a little wonderful.

Yeah, laughing with Edward is wonderful.

He reaches out and pulls one of my hands away from my face. And then he holds it again. Like it's normal. Like it's what we're supposed to do when we're together. And it feels like it is.

"So it was mutual?" I ask. "The decision? It was both of you?"

He looks down at me for a second, but before I can try to read his expression, he looks back up and out.

"It was more her than me," he says. "She was the one that told me. Well, actually, we were having dinner one night. And she told me she wanted a divorce. It was all very neat…clinical. Like we were discussing the bills or our plans for the next day."

"Oh, god," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Edward."

"It's okay, Bella," he says. "It took me a while, but now it's okay. I mean, it's better. When I really think about it, I know it's better. We weren't in love. And don't I deserve that? Don't all of us deserve that?"

You do.

He looks down at me and smiles. And I wonder how he's able to just do that. I wasn't able to smile for so long. And here he is…and it just seems so easy for him. I realize that I have smiled more in the last month than I have in the last year. And that is no fucking coincidence.

It's him.

He makes me smile.

"You deserve to happy," I tell him honestly. "And you….yeah…you deserve to find love."

"So do you," he whispers.

We're standing in front of my building. I didn't even realize how far we walked. And it all comes back to the confliction. The dichotomy of who I am. I still feel like want to run away. But I also want to stay. I want to open up…and I'm terrified of what that means for me.

But I look at him, and he's asking. Without any words, he's asking.

"You could hurt me," I whisper.

"You could hurt me," he whispers in return.

"I wouldn't."

He steps toward me, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me all the way against him. It's the first time that he's held me like this since the night I made him dinner. Only this time there are no tears.

This time…there's heat.

And his pounding heart that I can feel against my own.

"I want to kiss you," he says, his breath against my neck. "You have no idea how much."

I look at him because I have to.

"You're wrong," I tell him. "I know."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you so much for all the love and support. Yeah…I got nothing else. ILY all.**

**Marvar is the best beta in the world. She still allows me to ask stupid questions, even though she's been doing this with me for two years. And I love her more than Darcy loves Elizabeth. Like, I want to stand in a field at dawn and look at her with swoon-worthy eyes.**

**#TeamAmazeballs owns me. You don't even know how happy they made me yesterday. And every single day for that matter. Raina, Kourt, Laura and Jaime…IFLY.**

**See you in the morning!**


	19. Chapter 19

"How are you?" Renata asks.

"Freezing," I tell her. "It's really cold outside."

She writes something down and then continues, "I don't think you want to talk about the weather, Bella."

That's it. That's all she says. No further direction of the conversation. No other question I probably don't want to answer.

"I talked in group again," I tell her quickly. "And I want to kiss Edward."

_Fuck._

_Seriously. I can never just shut the fuck up._

She looks up at me, her expression still unreadable. And I wonder if this is something they learn in school. Like, do doctors all have to take a class on not showing emotion?

"We can talk about that," she says.

"Which one?"

"Whichever one you would like to discuss," she says. "Though, I think that both are worth addressing."

"Yeah, but…" I pause, wondering if I've already said too much. "Which one do you think is more important?"

"Which one do _you_ think is more important?"

Edward.

Yeah…kissing Edward is definitely more important.

But then I think that she might not think that kissing Edward is more important. Like, what if she thinks kissing Edward is a really stupid idea?

"I don't know."

She smiles.

"I don't believe you."

She fucking knows.

"Is it bad if the kissing…I mean the _wanting_ to kiss him is more important?"

"There's no good or bad, Bella," she says, writing something down. "No right or wrong. Your feelings are your feelings. They're all valid. And why you're here. I think we should talk about why you want to kiss him."

_Because he's perfect._

"Because he's perfect."

Hey. Those were the same.

"Do you really think he's perfect?"

"Well, nobody is perfect, I guess," I say, blowing out a long breath. "But is it okay…I mean, if I think he's really nice…wonderful, really? And maybe want to kiss him?"

She looks at me for a long moment. She doesn't write anything down, but I can't help but wonder what she's thinking. Of course, she probably thinks I'm ridiculous.

"The more important question is," she says, leaning in a little, "do you think that's okay?"

"He walked me home again last night," I start. "He told me that he wanted…that he wanted to be more…you know, than just my friend."

She makes a note.

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Scared."

"Why was that scary?"

Because I really like him. A lot.

"Because…well, because he's become…_important_ to me."

She places my file down beside her.

"Important how?"

And I try not to over-think my answer. I want to tell her the truth. I want to talk this out. And the truth is…I don't really know the answer. I only know how I felt…how I feel.

"Important because he is the first person to make me smile in a long fucking time," I admit. "Important because I look forward to seeing him. Like, I get excited…nervous and excited. And important because unlike every person I know, he doesn't look at me all sympathetic and judging."

"How does he look at you, Bella?"

I close my eyes for just a minute…and I can see him there behind my lids.

Looking at me.

Smiling at me.

"Like I'm someone worth looking at," I say softly, opening my eyes. "Like he wants to _see_ me. Just me."

"And what do you think, Bella?" she asks.

"About what?"

"Are you worth being seen?"

"Yes," I tell her, wiping away tears I didn't even know I cried. "I am."

I look across at her, and even though her expression is still somewhat unreadable, I see a flicker of something in her eyes. And the smallest twitch of her lips. And then she says, "You are."

This moment seems too emotional for me, but then…all of my moments are pretty emotional lately.

"I talked in group…again," I tell her, filling the silence.

She picks up the file and suddenly, we're back to a place that feels normal. I relax back into the couch and breathe a little deeper.

"And how was that?"

"It was okay," I tell her. "I was still nervous, but I stood up. And yeah…I talked."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"There was this man there. He was new…I didn't know him. Anyway…his story was sad. Really fucking sad. His wife…she left him. And he was still in love with her. And it made me feel bad for him. But I was just sitting there…thinking that I couldn't really completely understand…you know…because I didn't still love…_Tyler_."

Saying his name still hurts. Like, it makes my tongue feel like it's raw from acid.

Renata doesn't say anything. She just waits for me to continue. So, I do.

"And just thinking about…him…well, I thought that I would panic. I thought that I'd get sick. But I didn't. It was just like…I don't know…whatever."

"Tyler was 'whatever?'"

"Does that make sense?" I ask. "Like I kept waiting for all this anxiety that never came. It was like…I don't know…like... Yeah, Tyler hurt me…but I'm okay. And I was actually feeling that while I was sitting there. And it felt huge. You know…it felt…important. So, when Didyme asked if anyone else wanted to talk…I just stood up."

I look over at her and she's still holding my file, but she's not writing.

"And what did you say?"

"I said I was getting better. That every day…I'm feeling stronger. More like…myself."

"And who is she?" Renata asks.

I look down at my hands – my short fingernails that I've basically chewed away in the last year. And then I look back at her.

And I smile.

It's not huge…but it _feels_ huge.

"She's…" I pause, biting on my lip and scrunching up my nose. "She's alright."

"I think I'd like to talk a little more about her."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for the love. And every single review. I wish I had time to respond to them all. But I read and love each one of them. And I love all of you, too!**

**I love Marvar more than Johnny loved tight black pants and rubbing his crotch against Baby. I would totally pull her from the corner and dance with her in front of everyone.**

**#TeamAmazeballs is the shit. Seriously. They are fucking amazing women who mean the world to me. Raina, Jaime, Laura and Kourt…you are the sunshine of my life. Or another song that's possibly dirtier.**

**See you in the morning!**


	20. Chapter 20

"Edward…yeah, ummm…hi. It's Bella." I stammer nervously into my phone. "I mean…of course it's me. Not that I think that no one else calls you or anything." _Oh my god. I'm a fucking idiot._ "At least…well, I hope no one else does. I mean women…not men. Fuck. Please don't hang up. Unless you already have. I just…I wanted to maybe invite you over. You know…for dinner tonight. Without the crying this time. So, yeah…just call me."

Worst message ever.

I end the call and immediately want to pound my head on the desk.

What the fuck does he see in me?

I try to force my dry mouth to swallow, but it doesn't work. So, I take a long drink of the tepid coffee sitting on my desk. At least I have a lot of work to do today. Not that I could really focus if I wanted to. Just as I'm about to get up to get a fresh cup of coffee, my phone rings. I almost drop the cup.

I see his name on the screen and my heart pounds. He's calling me back. He listened to my crazy fucking message…and he's calling me back. And I'm so busy being excited about it, that I almost don't answer the phone in time.

Fuck.

"Hello."

"Bella…" he says my name, and then pauses. "It's Edward."

I know.

"Hi."

I sigh.

"Hi."

There's a long silence. I'm not sure what he's doing, but I'm trying to calm my heart the fuck down. It doesn't really work.

"You called."

He laughs a little, and it's perfect. Like the sound is literally perfect.

"You called first."

And I cringe as I think about the ridiculous message I left, and wonder if he thinks I really am a stammering moron. He must. But none of that matters because he called.

He called me.

"I did," I tell him. "I wanted to…I want to ummm…invite you over."

There's this flutter in my stomach, this overwhelming need to just reach through the phone and just…just… Well, I don't know exactly what I'd do. But I'm thinking I could figure it out. And even more than that, I'm thinking we could figure it out together.

Together.

The word scares me more than I expect it to.

Together means that he's there…and I'm there. And that he could eventually decide that he doesn't want to be there anymore. And then I remember what he said to me on the steps of my building when I told him he could hurt me. He said I could hurt him, too. And still, he's here…on my phone…putting himself out there.

But I did, too.

And fuck me if I'm not going to take a little strength from that.

Renata would be so proud. Hell, she might even make a note of it.

"I would…yeah, I would love that," he says. "But I was thinking…"

"What? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that maybe…I don't know if you want to…but maybe you could come over…ummm…you know…to my place?"

_His place._

"What would we do there?"

The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to even think about them.

_What would we do there?_

What the fuck does that even mean?

He laughs again…and I wonder if he's laughing at me. I'm glad we're on the phone, so he can't see the bright red color that I know is covering my face.

_Really, Bella? What would we do there?_

"I was thinking we could play Uno," he laughs again. "Or maybe a board game."

"Seriously?" I gasp, laughing in spite of myself.

"Well, we could…I guess," he says. "But it might be difficult, since I don't really have any board games."

"You made me laugh," I tell him, forgetting for a moment that I'm nervous.

"I'm glad," he says. "Your laugh…ummm…yeah, it's kind of wonderful."

And I don't really know what to say to that…you know, that won't sound stupid. So I just tell him, "Thank you."

"I want to make dinner for you this time." he says. "Well, that's not true. I was hoping that maybe…maybe we could make something together."

And for some reason, I don't think he's really talking about food anymore. I feel this warmth in my belly, and the heat spreads out, covering me…tickling me all over. And I'm nervous, but for the first time in so long…it's a good nervous. Not a crazy nervous.

"I'd like that," I tell him, my voice so much quieter than before.

"You would?"

"Yeah…I think," I pause because I don't really know what I think. I only know that my heart is pounding and I'm standing in my office, holding my phone and smiling like a goddamn idiot. And Edward did that. "I really would."

"Me, too."

And I think that he means it.

"Edward?" I ask…biting my thumbnail, and wondering if I shouldn't ask what I'm about to ask.

"Yeah?"

I think I'm going to vomit.

"Is this…" I stop.

He's going to think I'm crazy.

"Is this what?"

"Is this…is this a date?"

And then there's silence…nothing. Not even the sound of him breathing. Well, that's not true. My heart is pounding so loud, he can probably hear it over the phone.

And why the fuck isn't he saying anything?

"Do you want it to be?" His voice is so quiet, so questioning.

_Yes._

So I move forward one more inch. I consciously take one more step…even though it might cause me to fall. Or maybe I've been falling all along.

"Yeah…I do."

"Then I guess…" he breathes. "I guess it's a date."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**I don't know how many ways I can say thank you. But I still need to say it every single day. Because the response to this story has just blown me away. So, thank you. So much. *hugs***

**I love Marvar more than Kurt loves Blaine. Though, I'm fairly certain that the physical act of our love would require far less astroglide. **

**#TeamAmazeballs is awesome. You should get to know them! They're all on twitter. Raina312, Kourt17, laura_1025 and jaimearkin. You should be warned that you will want to make out with all of them. **

**See you in the morning! **


	21. Chapter 21

I'm going to die.

I am literally going to die right here.

It's a good thing I don't have any pets at home waiting on me to feed them.

I'm standing in front of his apartment. And he's expecting me. You know, to just knock on his door. But I'm not really sure how that's supposed to happen because I'm going to die right the fuck now.

My fingers hurt from holding the bottle of wine so tightly. I think that I could just let go and knock on the door, and that shit would stop. Of course, then I'd be knocking on the door…and he would hear me.

Why the fuck did I ask him if this was a date?

There's too much pressure with a date…and I haven't been on a "date" in ten fucking years.

Without thinking, I lay my head on his door. Well, I don't lay it so much as I bang it.

Yeah…what are the chances he didn't hear that?

I assume not really good since seconds later, the door opens. And there's Edward. All sweet and tall and…god, he's fucking perfect. I mean really, how is it possible that just standing there – he is able to achieve more perfection than I am able to achieve in months? Years even.

"Bella," he says, softly smiling. His voice is lower than usual, but still warm. "I'm so glad you here."

And I want to reach out and touch him, grab his hands…tell him to hold me the way he held me the other night. Because really, I can't stop thinking about the way it felt. But I can't do that. I just…I can't.

"I brought you wine," I tell him, pushing the bottle out in front of me, and forcing some distance between us. "I didn't know what we were making, but I figured red wine would go with anything. Well, unless we were having fish or chicken. Although, I don't really like fish. We're not having fish are we?"

_Oh, god._

_Shut the fuck up about fish._

He laughs and it's wonderful. And I know I think that a lot, but it's so fucking true. There's just something, you know. Something about the way it sounds. Warm and open…and easy.

"Please come in, Bella," he says, taking the wine from my shaking hands. "And no…we're not having fish."

I step inside and I can feel him behind me. My heart is pounding, but I try to ignore it so I can look around his apartment. Which is a really good plan, until I feel him almost up against me, his breath on my neck. Yeah, I completely forget about the apartment.

"Would you like me to take your coat?" his voice is in my ear, and I feel a million goosebumps cover my skin.

"Yeah," I whisper, closing my eyes, as his hands brush my neck before pulling the coat from my body. "Thank you."

Once we're in the living room, I take a moment to look around. I realize his apartment isn't all that different from my own. Well, in the sense that it's small and comfortable looking. Although, it's filled with soft leather and dark wood furniture…and not lavender candles.

"Your apartment is nice," I tell him.

"It's okay," he says, clearing his throat. And I wonder if he's nervous like me. Though, anyone being as nervous as me is entirely impossible. "It's quiet."

I look up at him and he's…well, he's staring at me. It makes me uncomfortable, and I don't know why. Like, I'm afraid he's just going to see that I'm still completely fucked up.

"I like it."

"Thank you," he says, his hand reaching up and rubbing the side of his neck. "Would you like some wine?"

"_God, yes_," I blurt out, and my hands immediately come up to cover my mouth.

He steps closer to me – like, he's inching around the edges of my personal space. I watch as his hand reaches out, and then he wraps it around one of my wrists. He pulls gently, and I can feel the pad of his thumb stroking across my pulse-point.

"Are you nervous, Bella?" he asks.

"Yeah," I tell him, nodding my head. "I am."

I'm feeling overwhelmed, and I'm pretty sure that I'm going to open my mouth tonight and say something stupid. Or just something…something to make him actually see what a mess I really am. But he just steps in even closer, his hand dropping from my wrist and into my hand. Our fingers twine, and it feels okay.

It feels good.

"Don't be," he says, his voice lower than before. He tugs on my hand, pulling me with him. "Come on…let's go make something together."

I'm standing in front of his counter while he pours us some wine, and I immediately know what we're making. And I can't help but laugh.

"We're making pizza?"

"Yeah, I figured it was a safe bet," he says, handing me a glass of wine. I try not to drink it all immediately. "You're Italian, right?"

I laugh. It feels good.

"What makes you think that?"

He blushes, and I die…of course.

"Well, your name for one," he tells me, taking a drink from his glass. "And you made me pasta…I just assumed."

"I'm not," I tell him. "Although, I could be. I love Italian food."

"What's your favorite?"

"All of it…" I tell him. "I love the sauces…the tomatoes and all the cheese."

I take another drink of wine, feeling the familiar burn and the much needed way my muscles relax.

"But I guess that anything heavy on garlic isn't really good date food," I say without thinking.

Great.

Now he's going to think I want to kiss him.

With garlic pizza breath.

Awesome.

Well, I mean I pretty much told him I wanted to kiss him. But what if he thinks I expect it now? What if _he_ expects it?

"I don't know," he says, pulling me from my thoughts. "If both people eat it, I think it's fine."

He takes another drink, and I realize that his lips look just as amazing on his wine glass as they did on mine. I shake my head, trying to focus on something other than his lips.

"You have a lot of toppings over here," I tell him.

"Yeah," he says. "I wasn't…I wasn't sure what you really liked."

"I like pepperoni and cheese," I tell him. "I'm a simple girl."

He steps in closer – so close that I can feel him. So close that I could reach out and touch him again.

"There's nothing simple about you, Bella," he says, his green eyes dark. And maybe even shining a little.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, and even that sounds loud.

And I am sorry. Sorry that all this has to be so…so complicated and hard. Like, I just want to be easy for him. For me…for both of us.

"I'm not."

He places the wine glass on the counter behind me. And when his eyes meet mine again, he's smiling.

"Are you saying you like complicated things?" I try to joke…deflect. Whatever.

"No," he says softly. "I'm saying…I'm saying I like you."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**You have no idea how much all of your comments made me smile yesterday. Thank you for each and every one. You guys (beautiful girls) are awesome. And ILY. *boob smoosh***

**I love Marvar more than Duckie loved Andie. I would totally ride my bike past her house and lip-sync Otis Redding to her in a record store. And really, my writing is so much better because of her. So much. That's all.**

**#TeamAmazeballs is beyond amazing. And generally available when crazy things happen to me during the day. Oh, and they make me want to write. Raina, Laura, Jaime and Kourt…IFLY. **

**See you in the morning!**


	22. Chapter 22

We're on Edward's couch. And I'm more relaxed than I've ever been in his presence. Well, I'm still a shaking, trembling mess, but there's definite improvement. Pretty sure the bottle of wine we drank is helping.

He sitting next to me – close, but not touching. Not even our hands. He turns a little more toward me. The couch sags a little with his weight and I inadvertently move closer. To him…to the way he smells. It's just as wonderful even when he's not wet.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks.

"That you smell good," I say.

I'm not even embarrassed by my admission. Maybe the wine really _is_ helping.

"Really?"

"Yeah…really," I tell him, feeling the heat in my cheeks. "What kind of cologne do you use?"

"I don't," he says, and then he reaches over and takes my hand. My heart skips, but I let him. "Just…just regular soap."

Of course it's regular soap.

People spend billions of dollars every year on fragrance, trying to smell good. And Edward spends a dollar on a bar of Dove.

I breathe in deeply through my nose and exhale. This is better than any meditation ever.

My eyes pop open and I stiffen because I realize that he must think I'm sniffing him like a dog. When they finally focus, I see him…and yeah, he's looking at me.

"It's nice," I whisper.

"You're nice," he whispers back.

I feel his thumb stoke the back of my hand. I kind of love his thumbs. Just thinking about how I love them makes me feel nervous, and I blush. And I think that this thing – _this one small thing_ – is so fucking exciting. To me, he is so fucking exciting. Like, heart-rate increasing, need to take a chill-pill exciting.

"Your ex-wife must have been an idiot," I say. Of course, I say it without thinking because it's actually _me_ who's the goddamn idiot. Well she was an idiot, too. But for completely different reasons.

And now I want to die.

His eyes widen and his thumb stops moving. And I just know I've ruined this one moment where I – where we – were both feeling okay.

"I'm sorry," I tell him quickly, looking up and into his eyes. "God, I didn't…I mean…fuck, I'm just sorry."

He blushes and then laughs. And his laugh is so soft and sweet it makes my chest hurt. I feel his thumb begin to trace circles on my skin again, and I breathe a little deeper, hoping that I haven't actually made him want to tell me to get the fuck out.

"Bella," he says my name, and of course my stupid heart pounds. Like a drum. "It's okay. I mean…well, yeah…it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"Really?" I ask, my voice hopeful.

"Yeah…but…"

"But what?" Slightly less hopeful.

"Well," he says. "Do you…why did you say that?"

His tongue licks his lips, and I can't help but watch. I feel this tingle right now. It's all over…it's in my belly…_it's lower_.

Wait.

When the fuck did that happen?

Not taking my eyes from his lips, I whisper, "Because…"

Because I'm a filterless idiot who doesn't know how to act around a man anymore.

And then I force myself to meet his eyes. God, they're green and dark. Like the color of moss or the bile that's in my stomach. But mostly moss…because bile is gross. Edward is not gross.

"I was just thinking about what you said," I tell him. "You know…in group. About how you said she told you that you weren't exciting."

"You remembered that?" he asks.

I remember everything you've ever said to me.

"I did," I tell him. "And maybe I shouldn't have said it…you know…anything about her. But what you said…well, it stuck with me. And I think…well, I think that you should know…"

I take a deep breath, trying to work up the nerve to actually tell him what I think, but before I can speak, he says, "I should know what?"

I look down to our hands – to his thumb that's still stroking my skin. And then back up to his eyes. And I remember what Renata said about needing to open myself up more. To be honest. With myself and the people in my life. That who I am and what I think are valid. And important to healing.

God, I think of her at the most ridiculous times.

"You should know that…you should know that I think you are," I whisper. "I think you're very exciting."

"You do?" his voice is small…uncertain.

"Yeah," I whisper. "I totally do."

There's a shift in the air around us. And not only that, but in our bodies as well. He's leaning in closer. So close…too close, really. I begin to panic a little, but not enough to push him away.

I don't want to push him away.

Like ever.

And that scares the shit out of me.

"I think you're amazing," he whispers. His breath brushes across my face, covers my skin. It's hot and warm and like everything I've come to know about him. "I think…god, Bella…I think you're beautiful."

And while my first reaction is to think that he can't possibly mean what he's saying, there's this honesty, this absolute breathtaking vulnerability in his eyes. It's like mine. I see me there…reflected like a mirror.

His hand reaches up and cups my face. His other thumb is rubbing softly across my cheek. And I want to die. I want to cry. I want to just reach out and pull him against me and kiss him all night long. My eyes water because I'm not sure I'm ready for that…but also because I know somewhere inside me that I can't live with myself if he doesn't kiss me.

I fucking want him to kiss me.

"Bella," he whispers.

It's just my name….but it's a question. It's a million questions that I can see and feel and hear without another word. And my world shifts. It's scary…it's fucking terrifying. But I can only manage one word. And I hope – I really fucking hope – he can hear me the same way I think I'm hearing him.

"Please."

His other hand comes up to my face. He's cupping me, holding me…pulling me closer. His eyes never leave mine. And just like that night – not so long ago – his thumbs press and drag across my lips. His eyes close. So do mine. And then his lips are on mine. Our lips are pressed together.

And I die a million times.

His lips are trembling. Or maybe they're mine. I don't know, but it's so fucking perfect. Warm and wet against my skin…as my body follows suit, trembling in his arms.

He whimpers into my mouth and I open to him, my arms reaching up and circling around his neck. It's tentative….and scary, but his tongue slips out and into my mouth. And I taste him…and he's tasting me. And pressing myself in closer against him, I feel his heart pounding rapidly against my own. I feel tears on my cheeks. I don't know if they're mine…I don't know if they're his. But none of that matters because it's good….it's so fucking good.

With a whimper and a moan, he pulls back. He's still holding me, and I'm still holding him. His eyes are wet and dark and fuzzy, but focused on me. His breathing is labored…heavy. And he whispers, "Are you okay?"

And I am.

It's scary, but I am.

"Please," I whisper. "Don't stop."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**So, yeah…they kissed. I'll just be over here waiting to know what you think. And as always…loving all of you for reading. *strokes all of your lips with my thumb***

**I love Marvar more than an emo 90's girl loved Tori Amos, Jordan Catalano and flannel. And since I was that girl for a couple years…I know how much love that actually is. **_**It's a lot.**_

**I loved writing this chapter. #TeamAmazeballs made me beyond excited to post it. Raina, Jaime, Kourt and Laura…you guys have made the experience of writing this wonderful. There are no words for how much your encouragement means. IFLY**

**See you in the morning!**


	23. Chapter 23

"My name is Emily," a beautiful woman with a quiet voice says as she stands in front of the group. "I'm here…I'm here because Didyme invited me."

She looks over at Didyme, who's sitting next to her, and then looks back down. And all I can think is I've been there. I've totally been there. And then I realize that for the first time, I'm thinking about my divorce – and everything that came with it – in the past tense. It scares me, and I immediately want to look down, but I don't. I force myself not to.

"When I met my husband…I mean my ex-husband, it was this immediate attraction. It was like I just knew…he was the one. He told me it was the same way for him. That he felt the same way."

She looks down and I can feel the anguish coming off her. Her words are subtle, but her pain is not. I briefly wonder if this is what people felt when they looked at me. And suddenly, I understand all the lavender candles. Suddenly, I understand the sympathetic looks.

"We fell in love and got married right away. And I was so happy. Everyone around us was so happy. I wish…you know, I wish I could just go back to those first few weeks of our marriage. When it was nothing but endless lovemaking and…and passion like I'd never felt."

Tears fill her eyes and Didyme reaches up, takes her hand and holds it.

"But that didn't last very long. He also had a temper. In the beginning, when we would fight, I remember reasoning with myself that he was just passionate at everything. But the fights…they got worse. More intense. They were really bad…and sometimes….sometimes I'd end up crying and panic stricken after.

"But he was always so sweet…so apologetic after. And we would have this…this make-up sex. And in those moments, when he was….loving me like that…well, it was easy to forget the way he'd been only moments before."

I get this twisted and sinking knot in the pit of my stomach as I listen to her. My hands are wringing themselves and I feel sick. Really fucking sick.

"Then one night…one night my whole life changed."

I'm looking at her from across the room…and I feel the need to offer her comfort. I feel the need to sit on the other side and hold her other hand.

"He came home from work late one evening. He'd been stressed about the pressure he was under with his job. And I thought…you know, I thought it might be good for us to get out. That maybe if we went out to dinner, he could relax a little. But…but he didn't really see it that way.

"He told me that I was a part of the pressure. That now he had a wife and all this responsibility. And then he told me that…that I was selfish. And I remember thinking how ridiculous that was. That I had done nothing but support him. Even in the moments when he didn't really deserve the support. He didn't…he didn't deserve the understanding."

She takes another deep breath and the tears are flowing more freely. But still…even choked up, she continues.

"So, I did the one thing I'd never really done the entire time we were together. I stood up for myself. I told him that he was wrong…that he was being ridiculous. You know, looking back at it now…I still wonder if what happened next was my fault. You know, like maybe if I'd left it alone and walked away, things could have been different."

My heart is pounding as I watch her. Just thinking about the place I think this story is leading.

"What happened?" I whisper.

I shouldn't have said anything, but it just slipped out. At first, I hope that she didn't hear me, but her eyes shoot to mine, and I know she did.

"He lost control," she says. "I don't remember a lot of it, but I remember the first blow across my face. After that, I'm pretty sure I blacked out. But the…well, even though I was unconscious, he didn't stop hitting me."

I feel the acid in my stomach rise and I'm terrified I'm going to be sick right here in the middle of the room.

"He took me to the hospital. I don't remember it, but the doctor…the doctor that saw me told me that an attendant found me on the sidewalk outside of the emergency room. They didn't know who brought me in. And when they asked…I told them I didn't know. Because I was so ashamed."

She full on crying now. Sobbing really. And I'm crying right along with her.

"I mean, how do you say that your husband did this to you? How do you admit that to total strangers?"

And I don't know. I don't know how you do that, because I was ashamed to admit that my husband cheated on me. And now, listening to Emily…that seems fucking insignificant. But I understand her.

"But you're here now," I tell her. "You're here…and that means…"

"It means I left him," she says. "It means that I'm divorced now…and even though I know it's the right thing…I still miss him. You know, who he was…in the beginning."

And my heart breaks for her. I'm looking at her and my heart aches for this beautiful woman who still has a place inside her that loved a man who could hurt her so completely. That somewhere inside, she feels unworthy of real love. Of genuine love with someone who won't hurt her.

But I know better.

For her…and even for myself.

I'm still sitting in my seat. Group has been over for about ten minutes, and I still can't stand up. I still can't stop thinking about her. About Emily. But I'm also thinking about myself. About every woman who's been made to feel like less than who she is. And that's when I feel him. He takes the seat beside me, nudging me with his shoulder. I look at him through glassy eyes, and he's just sitting there…looking back. Concerned and smiling shyly. And he makes me feel good.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

And I am.

I really am.

"Some things just put stuff into perspective," I tell him.

"They do," he agrees.

"I don't want to stay," I tell him, reaching out to take his hand. It's the first time I've ever done that here. Ever shown him any sort of affection in front of these people. But things are different now. _We_ are different now. He smiles and squeezes my fingers. "Walk me home?"

"Yeah."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**All of you made my life with the response to yesterday's chapter. Thank you for that. Thank you for reading this and loving both of them so much. *squishes***

**I love Marvar more than a super model loves cigarettes and coke. She is the best beta in the world and you can't know just how much I would suck without her. **

**The beautiful girls that make up #TeamAmazeballs are truly, ridiculously wonderful. I adore them. Raina, Jaime, Laura and Kourt…IFLY. **

**See you in the morning!**


	24. Chapter 24

"How are you?" Renata asks.

"I kissed Edward." I blurt the words out quickly, and wait for a reaction or response that doesn't come. Damn it. I thought that would surprise her. "Well, first I invited him on a date. Like a real date."

And there it is…the arched eyebrow.

"Really?" she asks.

Yes, really.

"Why does the date surprise you more than the kiss?" I ask in return.

She smiles and says, "I think the better question is why do _you_ think the kiss should surprise me more? You already told me you wanted to kiss him."

"Did you really think I would?"

She looks at me for a long moment before she speaks.

"Does it matter what I think?"

Yes.

"Well, yeah," I tell her. "It does."

"Why?"

There's no immediate response in my mind. I actually have to think about her question. Why _does_ it matter what she thinks?

"I guess…I guess it's because I…I trust you." As soon as I say the words, I know they're absolutely true. "I mean…I need you to think that I'm doing better. I need you to think I'm ready…you know, to move on or something."

She makes a note, and then looks back up at me.

"I think it's more important to know what _you_ think, Bella. Do _you_ think you're 'doing better'?" she asks. "Do you think you're ready to 'move on'?"

I don't know, so I redirect.

"It was scary, you know," I admit. "The kiss. Well, all of it really. I mean…the calling him and asking him. You wouldn't believe the ridiculous message I left him."

I know she knows what I've done, but for some reason, she doesn't call me on it.

"Well, he obviously accepted," she smiles. "He must have thought the message was okay."

I blush as I think about it. All of it.

"We made dinner together at his house," I tell her. "Pizza. And I was a mess. I was so nervous…but I was also excited." I look at her, and she's still fucking unreadable. "It was like…I don't know…it was like the excitement…well, the excitement was more important than the nerves. Does that make sense?"

"It does," she says.

"The kiss…well, the kiss was wonderful. It was…it was perfect. I cried…I'm pretty sure he cried, too. But it wasn't sad…it wasn't anything like I thought actually kissing someone else again would be like."

"What did you think kissing someone else would be like?"

"Scary."

"And it wasn't scary?"

"No…it was," I admit. "It was terrifying."

"Then how was it different from what you expected?"

I take a moment to think about her question because the truth is…I don't really know.

"I guess it was different because it…it felt right. I mean, it felt like it was what I was supposed to be doing. Like, nothing about it felt wrong…or off at all. And he was just so…so tender. And I wanted him. In that moment…_I wanted him_. And it was okay that I did. It was okay that I wanted him…this…this man. And you know what?"

"What?"

"It was okay that he wanted me, too."

"And why was that, Bella?" she asks. "Why was it okay?"

I curl my legs under myself and lean in a little. I'm ready to address her question…and the one from earlier.

"After our last session, I was thinking about something that we talked about."

"And what was that?"

"Well," I say, biting my thumbnail, "I was thinking about how we were talking about me. You know…about….what I think about myself."

"Yes," she nods. "I remember. You said she was 'alright.' Do you still feel that way?"

"I do," I admit. "I think that I'm okay. But it's even more than that. It's…it's…I don't know if I can explain it."

"I'd really like for you to try."

She's pushing me, but I realize that I don't mind. I don't mind her pushing me. It's why I'm here. And for as much as I've tried to deny it, it's the reason that I started these sessions nine months ago.

"I never thought I deserved what _Tyler_ did to me," I tell her. "I mean…I thought…I thought that something must have been wrong with me for him to have done it. Like…I thought that I was missing something…that there was something lacking. I'd be lying if I didn't say that. But I never thought I deserved it."

I look at her, but she doesn't say anything. So, I continue.

"But lately…lately I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"You know…that I'm okay. That I'm…that I'm going to be okay. That I'm…I'm a good person…and I'm worthy. You know?"

"What are you worthy of, Bella?"

Goddamn it.

I always fucking cry here.

"I'm worthy of happiness," I tell her, wiping my face with the backs of my hands. "I'm worthy of being able to go through my day, knowing that I deserve all the good things that happen to me. And that I can handle the bad without falling apart. And…and I'm worthy of love."

She writes something down, and I don't even care that's she's doing it. I want her to write this down.

"I believe this is the most open and candid you've ever been with me, Bella," she says.

"Really?" I ask, not entirely sure if I believe that.

"Do you not agree with that statement?"

"It just seems…I mean, I just think…" I stammer. "I just think that other things have been more difficult to share."

"That's what I mean," she says. "The fact that this has been easier…well, it speaks volumes."

She's probably right. She always fucking is. And I can't help but think about the beginning with her. There were sessions where I couldn't really even speak. Sessions where I just cried for an hour, completely unable to form words.

"I want to get better," I tell her. "I want to…I want to be better. And I…I feel like I might be getting there."

There's this silence between us. She doesn't speak, and neither do I. And while I usually feel the need to fill the silence with something...this doesn't feel uncomfortable. It feels like…I don't know…like it just is what it is.

And then she speaks.

"I think it's important that we talk about why you're feeling this way," she says. "And that we explore these new feelings together."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for reading. And thank you to each and every woman who shared any of your personal stories with me. I think that all of you are tremendously brave and beautiful. *hugs***

**I love Marvar more than Starbucks, BDB and Edward's glorious cock. So, that basically means that I love her more than everything important in the world. Thank you for always telling me the truth. **

**#TeamAmazeballs is the best ever. Thank you for talking me off the self-inflicted ledge yesterday. And thank you for telling me to be true to these characters. Raina, Jaime, Kourt and Laura, IFLY guys like whoa. **

**See you in the morning! (Edward will be here.)**


	25. Chapter 25

I'm curled up on the couch when there's a knock at my door. Standing up, I walk over and look through the peep hole and I see the bronze top of a perfect head of hair. Well, it's a mess…but yeah, it's perfect.

But I'm not expecting him, and I'm wearing sweat pants and my grey sweater.

_Fuck._

"Bella?" he says. "Is that you?"

Did I say that out loud?

Of course I did.

_Double fuck._

I open the door, feeling the need to cover myself. Or you know…the need to run to my bedroom and change into something more appropriate. Like a trash bag.

"Hi," he says, looking slightly unsure.

"Hi," I whisper back. "What…what are you doing here?"

"I…I thought I'd surprise you," he says, blushing. "But…I mean…clearly, that was a mistake. I'm sorry. I should have…I mean…I wish I'd called."

"No…no, please," I say, stepping to the side. "Come in."

He steps inside while I shut the door behind him…and then, we're both just standing there. Looking at each other. Yeah, this isn't awkward at all.

He leans in, and for a moment, I think he's going to kiss me on my mouth. But he presses his lips against my cheek. His lips are cool, but his breath is warm…and my body shivers in response. He pulls back slightly to look at me, smiling…and softly whispers, "Hi."

Again.

At the sound of his voice, my stupid clothes are forgotten, and I lead him to the couch. I'm not sure what to do, so I sit down beside him. I'm close, but not too close. And after the kiss, I feel like it's not close enough.

"Is this alright?" he asks. "I mean…I know I should have called. But I was thinking that it might be…I don't know…better this way or something. Like maybe it would spare us being nervous. Or maybe you would say no. Of course, I was nervous all the over here anyway."

"You sound like me," I tell him.

He chuckles, and I find that I'm scooting in closer. Just an inch…maybe not even that.

"How's that?"

"You're rambly."

It's adorable.

"Yeah…I…umm…yeah, is that a bad thing?" he asks.

"No," I tell him. "Is it bad when I do it?"

I'm looking in his eyes, and thinking about the fact that he's here. He's nervous…but he's here in my apartment. And he came because he wanted to. He wanted to spend time with me…and I love that. It makes me smile. _He_ makes me smile. So, I reach over…and I take his hand. I want to be the one who reaches for him first this time.

"I like it when you talk."

The tips of his fingers scratch my palm softly. It tickles.

"Me, too," I tell him. "I mean…I like it when you talk, too."

His smile is wonderful. It warms me from the inside out. It makes me feel special. Like I'm the one who makes him feel special.

"Tell me something."

"About what?"

"Anything," he says. "Tell me about your day."

"Right here…this…this is the best part of my day," I tell him honestly. "And that's saying something…because I had a good day."

"Did you?"

He smiles; our fingers link. And this feels good. This feels really fucking good.

"Yeah…I did," I tell him, looking down at our hands and thinking about my session with Renata. "What about you?"

"I'm here," he breathes, looking at me. Making me tingle all over. "What does that tell you?"

"I don't know," I tell him, blushing. "What should it tell me?"

He leans in closer, and I realize I'm not stressed at all. He's here, and I'm not panicked. He's here…and I don't want him to be anywhere else.

"That I couldn't stop thinking about you," he says. "That I can't…I haven't…you know, been able to stop thinking about you since…the other night."

His eyes darken and his mouth parts. And I'm staring like a goddamn idiot.

"The other night…" I repeat, and I know I'm staring at his lips. Thinking about the way his lips felt against mine the other night. "Yeah…that was…I just…I've been thinking about that, too."

"You have?"

He gulps.

I breathe and then swallow.

"Does that surprise you?"

"You're always surprising me," he says, licking his lips. "You're a big surprise."

I flush all over. It's warm…_he's warm_. And there's nothing going on in my stupid brain. No panic…no over-thinking. I take his words in what I hope is the way he means them. You know, that I'm a good surprise. The kind of surprise that he was tonight. The kind that ended with him here on my couch...touching me…looking at me like this.

"But it's not just the other night," he says.

"It's not?"

He turns to fully face me. His eyes are open and sincere. And I want him to see me the same way. I want him to know that I'm open to this. _I'm open to him_. It's scary, but I am.

"No," he says. "It's not. It's every night since the first night. It's days and nights of not being able to stop thinking about you. Of being happy when you answer your phone. Of being ecstatic when you're the one to call. And I know I'm probably scaring you…and that you're probably going to pull away…but I need you to know this. Because it's the truth."

He takes a deep breath, and I try to calm my heart down.

"I _am_ scared," I admit. "But I'm not going anywhere."

His eyes widen.

"You're not?"

"No…I'm not."

He leans in closer.

"Bella?"

I lean in closer.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to kiss you again."

"No you're not," I whisper, reaching a shaking hand up to stroke his face. "I'm going to kiss you first. I mean, I want…I _want_ to be the one who kisses you first."

"Then kiss me."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for reading. Seriously, you have no idea how much I adore all of you. xoxo**

**I love Marvar more than chocolate. And right now, I'm drinking a mocha and eating a piece of chocolate cake. So, I guess I'm saying that I would like to eat Marvar.**

**#TeamAmazeballs owns me. They are beautiful women with even more beautiful hearts. And I'm so glad I have their support. Raina, Jaime, Laura and Kourt…IFLY.**

**See you in the morning! **


	26. Chapter 26

My whole body is trembling as I push up onto my knees on the couch. Our eyes are level with each other – but more than that – I know that both of us are level, too. In the same place. Wanting the same thing. He wants me. He came here tonight because he wants _only_ me.

I can't help the overwhelming emotion that surges through me. It's so much…too many things to even try to identify. But the want – it pushes through everything else as I reach for him. And before my lips cover his, he whispers my name. And that's the sound that remains in my ears as I kiss him.

His lips are gentle and seeking as they press against mine over and over again with small, soft, sweet kisses. My hands wrap around his neck, steadying myself, pushing myself in closer. His arms reach up; I feel them brush against my hips, but then I feel this tension, this apprehension. It's in the way he's kissing me…it's in the way he's not completely reaching for me.

And suddenly I know.

Suddenly, there's no question in my mind.

I want him to reach for me…but only if he wants it, too.

"What?" I whisper, pulling back. He whimpers, sucking on my bottom lip as it slips from his mouth. "What's wrong? Is it me? Is this…is it too much? You…you told me to kiss you."

Adrenaline spikes in my body, I feel the nervousness begin to take hold. My heart is pounding, his breath is against my neck. And I wait, as he slowly lifts his eyes to mine. Dark and evergreen, contrasted against his flushed cheeks. I think randomly that he looks like Christmas.

"No," he breathes. "I wanted to…I want to kiss you. I've done nothing but think about kissing you since…since we kissed. But I…it's just…."

And I'm on my knees beside him…asking. And this feels too familiar. His reluctance – it hurts me more than I'm ready to accept. Stupid fucking tears fill my eyes…and before I can stop myself, I'm talking.

"It's okay…you know…if you don't want…if this is too much," I say. "I've been here before. I've been…"

And I can't say the words. I can't tell him that this is too much like how I felt with Tyler. Wanting and never wanted. Asking and never asked.

"Bella," he says. "You're crazy."

"You're mean!"

"No," he says, reaching up, and placing his hand over mine on his neck. It's warm like him…and it's comforting. "You're crazy, Bella. I want to kiss you…I…I…"

"You were pulling away," I interrupt him. "I wasn't imagining that."

"You were just so close," he says, squeezing my hand. "You were close…and your mouth and your breath…and your lips…and I…"

"What?" I whisper. "You what?"

He leans in and presses a soft, closed kiss against my lips. I sigh…he breathes.

"I wanted you," he says softly. "I…I want you. And I don't want to…fuck, I just don't want to scare you."

"I wasn't scared," I tell him.

It's not a lie, and the realization unnerves me. Just like he always does.

"You weren't?"

His other hand comes up and pushes through my hair. His palm is against my neck. It's so fucking warm and I can feel my own pulse beating against it.

"I…I'm not."

He's looking at me. His eyes are intense, his breathing shallow.

"I wanted to pull you against me, Bella," he whispers. "I wanted to feel you with my hands."

And the image of him "feeling me" fills my mind. I have to close my eyes. Heat fills my body. It's hot…hotter than him. Hotter than his hands that feel like they're burning my skin. I breathe in deeply – the smell of him…his regular soap. And slowly, my eyes open, and I whisper, "You did?"

There's no pause. No skipping beat.

"I did."

_He did._

"You're not mean," I whisper.

"You're not crazy."

My head leans to the side. The weight of it seems too much as it swirls with the words he just said. His hand moves back and cups my scalp, his fingers in my hair, his thumb tracing over the same place where my pulse pounds. Where it's always pounded since the moment he approached me on that first night. First with fear…and now with something else.

"I wanted to pull you onto my lap," he continues. "While you kissed me…I wanted to pull you against me, Bella. Completely against me…and you would have…"

The room is spinning, but somehow I'm centered. Somehow, I'm right here in the small space with him, his words and his body that's so close. And he wanted me closer.

"I would have…what?"

"You would have felt me," he says, his voice low…rough. "You would have felt how…how much I want you."

His words register, and my eyes widen. My heart slams inside my chest.

"You would have felt it," he tells me again. "And you would have been scared. And I never want to scare you. I never want to hurt you. When I told you we could take it slow…I meant it. I want you to have all the time in the world."

And I _am_ scared. I'm fucking terrified. _Because he wants me._ But what if he doesn't always want me like this? What if he makes me want him…makes me need him…and then he just stops?

But Edward _isn't_ Tyler. He's _never_ been Tyler. And somewhere I know that I can't keep comparing them. Or I'll never move on. I'll never be happy. And Edward with his patience and persistence…with his humor and his calm…he makes me happy. No, more than that. He allows me to be happy with myself.

"I would have felt you," I whisper.

"Yes," he whispers back.

The sound of our breathing fills the space. Light flickers against the wall, and the smell of lavender from the candle I lit earlier in the evening lingers in the air around us. But nothing about this moment is relaxing. And then I look down to his lap. Like a goddamn idiot.

_Oh, god._

I _see_ him…I see the way he wants me.

"You want me."

It's not a question.

Now I know that it's never been a question.

"So much."

And even in my sweat pants and grey sweater, he makes me feel beautiful…desired. And as tears fill my eyes, I know that that's okay.

It's good.

It's so, so good.

So, I pull his lips to mine and kiss him like I mean it. And I really fucking do. His arms wrap around me, and I wait for him to pull me close. He does. And when it happens, I crawl in his lap…and I feel him. And he feels me. And even though it's scary, it's right. Nothing about it is wrong.

Nothing about _us_ is wrong.

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**I will never be able to thank you enough for all the encouragement, feedback and love for me and this fic. So, once again, I tell you I adore you. All of you. *climbs onto all your laps and gives you kisses***

**I love Marvar more than anything in the world. I totally want to move to an island with her and start a taco cart. Where we would sell actual tacos…and not pussy. J/S The point is…I love her and would do anything in the world for her.**

**I have the best pre-readers in the world. Seriously. The best. Raina, Kourt, Laura and Jaime…IFY more today than I did yesterday. #TeamAmazeballs FTW!**

**See you in the morning!**


	27. Chapter 27

"So…" Renata speaks softly, but with purpose.

"So…" I repeat back.

"You were the one that called this morning, saying you needed to see me," she says. "I'm assuming that since we just had a session yesterday, you have something pressing you'd like to discuss."

"Thank you," I tell her. "Thank you for fitting me in. I mean…I know you're probably busy."

"I happened to have the extra time," she says, smiling. "Now, Bella…what's going on?"

I look at her, trying to find the words. The right words. I guess there aren't really any right words…but I'm not quite sure how to broach this subject. I don't know how I'm supposed to just tell her what I really need to tell her.

She continues to look at me.

I continue to not speak.

"You're wearing your grey sweater again," she says. "I haven't seen you in that for a while."

I take a drink of water from the bottle she offered me when I came in. I am wearing the sweater again. But it's…well, it's not for the reason she probably thinks.

"You notice my sweater?" I ask. "Do you always notice what I wear?"

"I'm more than happy to answer questions for the next hour, Bella," she says evenly. "But I don't think that's why you're here. You're deflecting again. And since we had what I felt was a productive session yesterday, I'd like to know what's going on."

She always knows everything.

How the fuck does she do that?

"But…" she continues. "Since you were so honest with me yesterday, I can tell you this. You wore that sweater during every session we had in the beginning. Every single time we met for the first four months. It was apparent to me that it was a security blanket of sorts for you."

"Did you write that in my file?"

She doesn't acknowledge my question, and I half-expect her to write something down. She doesn't. She waits. She's good.

"I felt Edward's penis," I blurt out. "I mean I didn't really feel it. It wasn't like skin on skin or anything. But I felt it through his pants…you know, like against me. Oh, and it was hard…but I guess you probably know that. And I'm wearing the sweater because it smells like him. I know that's weird…or gross…or weird. But it's the truth."

I suck in a deep breath. The truth is out there, and there's no taking it back. Not that I want to take it back. She was right, of course. I am here because I wanted to talk about it. And now she knows.

"Okay," she says. "Do you want to tell me about…about Edward's penis?"

Her face is so straight. Like she didn't even say the word "penis." It was like she said "box" or "chair" or some other inanimate object. I could never do what she does.

"He came over last night," I tell her. "It was a surprise…I mean, it…it surprised me."

"You weren't expecting him?"

"No."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Nervous at first. I mean, I was wearing this," I say, looking down at my grey sweater. "And sweat pants. I was mortified."

"About the clothes?" she asks. "Or about the man showing up unexpectedly?"

"Both," I tell her. "But…mostly…mostly about the man. About Edward."

"Okay."

That's all. "Okay." Nothing else. No question…no further comment.

"He was nervous," I continue. "I mean, I was nervous, too. But _he_ was nervous. Does that make sense?"

"It's not uncommon for both people in a new relationship to be nervous, Bella."

_Relationship._

Why doesn't that word scare me as much as I think it should?

"But he has always been the calm one," I tell her. "He's always been more at ease…more…I don't know…more comfortable."

"And how did it make you feel to know that he was feeling the same way?"

"I don't know why," I tell her. "But it made me feel good. It made me feel like I wasn't alone in all this. It made me feel like…I don't know…like we're the same. Like…like he feels the same way as me. It was good…like, it was important."

She makes a note this time, and then looks back up at me.

"Why is that important to you?"

"Because…" I tell her, "I have feelings for him. You know…like real feelings. And that's scary. I mean...I'm scared of the way that I feel. But last night…I don't know. Something changed. Actually, I really think it changed before. Like yesterday when we were talking. I told you that I felt like I deserved to be happy. That I deserved to…to find love."

"You did," she agrees.

"And last night when he was there with me, I remember thinking about how good I felt after our session. Like, I don't know…like I was proud of myself or something. But he was there…and that was good, too. Scary…but good. Kind of…well, kind of wonderful. And I wanted…I wanted to connect with him. I wanted to just…I don't know…just be with him."

"Physically?"

Yes.

"Yeah," I admit. "I mean…we didn't do much. I mean…I guess it was a lot for me. But while we were together…_like that_…It was like…like it was good. It wasn't wrong. It was just the two of us connecting. And I don't know…I thought I would compare him to Tyler. And I almost did. But I stopped myself. Like, I literally thought about the fact that comparing them was wrong. He's not Tyler. He's never been Tyler."

"Who is he?" she asks.

"He's…he's Edward."

"No," she says softly. "Who is Edward to you?"

"He's important."

"Define important?"

"Do I have to define it?"

"I think it's _important_ that you do."

I try not to roll my eyes. Unsuccessfully.

And I have to think about her question. Really fucking think about it.

"Important because for the first time in a really long time…I feel really good about myself. And it's not because _he_ makes me feel that way. I mean he does…but the truth is…the truth is…I feel that way. _Me_. Like, all on my own. And being with him makes me happy. Talking to him makes me happy. Last night…what we did together…that made me happy. And I deserve to be happy."

She writes something else down.

"Everyone deserves happiness, Bella."

"Yeah…but here's the thing."

"What's that?"

"The thing is…I realized this morning that I was happy before he came over last night. I was proud of myself. And maybe that makes me lame, but it's true. The…_his penis_…yeah, it was good. It was really good. And a big deal. But the bigger deal was that I was still happy when he left last night. I was still happy when I woke up this morning. And that was when I called you."

"So, you called me because you were happy?" she smiles. "Not because of the penis."

"I called you because all of this is different," I tell her. "For the first time in I don't know how long…I'm actually happy. Not pretending to be happy. And that's new. It's different. It seemed…it seems important."

"You're right," she says. "That is very important."

"I know."

I beam a little.

Or a lot. Whatever.

"We have some extra time," she says. "I think we should talk about what these feelings mean for you."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**I have no more creative words of thanks. And I'm a wordy bitch. Just…thank you all so fucking much. The continued response means the world to me. *hugs***

**I love Marvar more than Joey loves sandwiches. And more than Chandler loves sweater vests. I couldn't and wouldn't do this without her. I love you, soulmate. **

**#TeamAmazeballs is the shit. That's all. I love them like crazy. Raina, Jaime, Laura and Kourt…thank you for everything.**

**See you in the morning!**


	28. Chapter 28

"How long have you been going to group?" I ask.

Edward's arm is around me, and we're walking at a slow pace on the way to my apartment. We just left the meeting, and it was good this week. I guess it's good every week, but some weeks are just tougher.

"Nine months," he says.

"Wow."

"Wow, what?" he asks, looking down at me.

And my heart skips a little. Still. Every single time he looks at me, I get excited. It's gotten better. Well, the nerves are slightly better. I don't feel like I'm going into a full-on panic attack every time he's near…every time he calls.

"That's seven months longer than me." I sigh, looking up at the lights of the city. "Wow."

"What's that one for?" he asks, smiling.

"I can't believe it's been two months."

He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek, and I grip the edge of his peacoat.

"Me either," he says softly. "It's been a good two months."

He blushes, and I wonder how it's still possible that he's nervous or embarrassed at all. I love it, though. I don't want it to stop. I die a little every time it happens. In the best fucking way.

"Is this…" I take a deep breath, wondering if I should ask what I'm about to ask. "Is this…well, is this the only kind of therapy you've done?"

He's quiet for a minute, and I immediately wish I hadn't asked.

"You don't have to tell me," I say quickly. "I just…it's none of my business. It's just that I'm still in therapy. I mean…not just group. And I thought that maybe you should know. Like….maybe it's important or something."

He pulls me closer to his side. And I don't know what it is, but something about the gesture calms me. Like everything's still okay. Like he's not put off by the fact that I'm still working through my issues. Like he still wants to be with me anyway.

"A friend of mine suggested the group to me," he says. "They told me they thought it might be a good idea. And it was. After…you know, after Lauren left me…I thought…well, I thought that there was something wrong with me. You know…that I was lacking or something."

I immediately stop, pulling on his hand and asking him to look at me.

"You're not," I tell him with a passion I don't expect from my voice. "You're not lacking."

"Thank you," he says softly. He pulls me back to his side and we continue walking further. "But group helped, you know. Meeting other people…hearing their stories." His voice is lower. "And then…and then there was you."

My whole body warms at his words. It's tingling and electric. I grip his side tighter. I feel his flesh through the shirt under his jacket. He feels good. Warm and solid. Real.

"What…" I start. "What…what made you talk to me that first night?"

"You really want to know?"

And even though we're still walking, everything but him goes away.

"Yes," I breathe.

"I saw you when you came in," he tells me. "Your head was down, and I couldn't see your face. But there…there was something about you. I don't know if I can explain it. Even now."

And I want to be like Renata. You know, ask him a leading question or something. Of course, I don't have the benefit of the truth serum. And I'm not his therapist. I don't know exactly what I am…but it's not that.

"But then," he continues, "then…Didyme asked you to stand up. And I was really fucking nervous. I don't know if it was because I knew what you must have been feeling…or if it was because I was actually going to get to see your face. Maybe both."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Definitely both."

He pushes my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. My heart is pounding and somehow, I know his is, too.

"And then you talked," he says softly. "And you were so real. Funny, even though you were hurting. There, even though you didn't want to be. And when I finally saw you…I knew."

I lose my breath. Like, seriously…I can't fucking breathe.

"You knew what?"

He looks down and then back up to me. His eyes wide and vulnerable.

"I knew you couldn't leave without me trying…you know…to talk to you."

"And then I ran away," I say, blushing. "I was so scared."

"It didn't matter," he says.

"It didn't?"

"No…you came back."

He stops walking, and I realize we're at my building. I'm not ready for the night to be over. I'm not ready for him to walk away. I step up to the second step, until I'm almost at eye level with him. It's still slightly awkward – these moments like this. We're still the same tentative people that we've been all along…but we're figuring it all out together.

There are no more words spoken, as he pulls me against him. His arms wrap around me, and mine slide around his waist. We stand here like this for a long moment – breathing in deeply, and each of us waiting for the other to say goodnight.

But I don't want to.

Not this time.

Not tonight.

Pulling back, I look at him. I don't know if I'm doing the best thing…hell, I don't think I know what the best thing is anymore. I only know that he's right. Everything about the man in front of me is right…and has been so right all along.

"Come upstairs with me," I whisper.

"Yeah, sure," he agrees. "Maybe for a little while."

I drag my hands up his chest and they're warm as they cup his cold face.

"No," I tell him, leaning in and kissing him softly on the mouth. Loving the quiet gasp that escapes his lips. "Come upstairs with me, Edward…and stay. Please, stay with me tonight."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**There are no more words. Just thank you. From the bottom of my heart.**

**Marvar is beautiful and she's my bestie. And she has been such a beta-goddess about editing 456023842612656 chapters since I decided to post every single day for a month. Thank you so much, soulmate. IFLY**

**#TeamAmazeballs rules the school. And I love them more than Rob probably loves Kristen on that GQ cover. J/S Raina, Jaime, Laura and Kout…ILY, pretty girls!**

**See you in the morning!**


	29. Chapter 29

"Are you sure?" he whispers.

He looks so uncertain, or maybe it's that he thinks I'm uncertain. But I'm not.

"I'm asking because I'm sure."

"Okay."

The door clicks softly behind us, and before I know what's happening, Edward pulls me into his arms and covers my mouth with his. And even though we've kissed…it's never been like this. His soft lips pressing firmly…his tongue slipping inside. This is more. This is so much more.

I push the jacket from his shoulders, while his mouth drags from my lips and down to my neck. His breath is warm as he whispers against my skin, "We don't have to do this, Bella." But before I can respond, I feel his warm, wet tongue licking…and then, he's sucking me softly.

My body shivers as the sound of him at my throat fills my ear. I grip him tightly, partly because I want to be closer to him, but also because I need him to steady me. I feel a million questions on my tongue. A million things I need to say. But all of it runs together in my mind. It's blurry and confused by the heat that I feel…the need I've been denying.

Almost like he knows what's going on inside me, he stops. He pulls back, his eyes dilated and dark…his mouth open and panting.

"I can't," he whispers. "I want to…so fucking much…but I just can't. Not yet…not like this."

"Like what?" I ask, anxiety spiking and rejection stinging. "Don't…what…like what?"

His hands cup my face and before I can question him anymore, he kisses me again. This time it's soft. This time it's slow and it's deep. His thumbs stroke my flushed cheeks, and I feel myself sagging against him.

He pulls back, taking me and leading me to my couch. He sits, pulling me onto his lap. And I go, still confused, but so much calmer because none of this feels like rejection. He kisses me again…even softer this time. And then he wraps his arms around me, as I lay my head on his shoulder…waiting.

"You…you just showed up one night," he says. "And I was sitting there, not expecting anything in my life to change. I'd been going through my life….every single day…and there was nothing. Not really. It was just me…and then…then there was you."

"Edward," I whisper.

"No," he whispers back. "Let me finish."

I can feel his hand in my hair, stroking…soothing. I can hear the steady beat of his heart. And even though this wasn't what I expected, I'm okay with it.

"You made me dinner, even though I know you were afraid. And you were…you _are_ so strong. Every day, Bella…you're so fucking strong. You talk too much…and somehow, it's still never enough. And when you laugh…it's just…it's the best sound in the world. And it's even more…it's even better when I'm the one who makes you do it."

I'm crying now, and I know I'm getting his shirt wet. And his words are too beautiful…they're too fucking much.

"And then you looked at me one night," he continues. "You looked at me while I held your hand…and you told me I was exciting. And that was the moment…for me, that will _always_ be the moment."

"What…what moment?"

He kisses my forehead and then he tilts my chin up until I'm looking in his eyes. And I know without question, that no one has ever treated me with this much care. Not ever. Not once.

"The moment I fell in love with you," he whispers.

And I'm crying now. It's ridiculous, but I can't stop it at all.

"You…you...love me?"

It's too much. I just…I can't.

"You asked me to stay with you tonight…you…you wanted to make love to me," he says, holding me closer…tighter. "And I want to. _I want you so fucking much_. But I can't take you to bed. I couldn't be with you…like that…in _that_ way until you knew. Until you know. Because this is it for me. And I know it's too soon…and I'm willing to wait. But you need to know how I feel…because I'm…I'm in love with you."

My whole body is shaking, but he pulls me against his chest and holds me. I know he thinks I'm going to stop, but I'm not. I can't. I'm a ridiculous, emotional mess. And I'm probably going to always be this way. And even though I might be okay with that…he might not.

"Don't," I cry against his shoulder. "Don't tell me this…if you don't really mean it. Because I can't take it. I…I won't be able to take it."

"Look at me, and tell me you know I mean it."

But I can't…I can't move or breathe. Because what if none of this is real? What if this is some sort of hallucination that stemming from being really, truly happy for what might be the first time in my life?

"Bella," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. "Look at me."

So I do. Slowly, I do.

And when I see him, his eyes are wet. He's crying like me. Well, not exactly like me…but yeah, there are tears.

"You're a mess," he whispers.

He's smiling.

It's perfect.

I can't help but laugh.

"I am," I tell him. "But you love me."

"I do," he says. "I really fucking do."

"Yeah?"

His hands cup my face and he kisses me softly. I probably taste like snot, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Please tell me I haven't fucked this up."

And before I can stop myself, I'm kissing him again. My mouth is trying to say what I can't really speak. Only he deserves the words – he deserves everything good and perfect and real. And the truth is…I do. I really fucking love him, too.

"You haven't," I tell him. "You haven't at all."

My heart is pounding. I feel like it's about to explode. And I'm looking at him, his eyes a mixture of hope and uncertainty. But he deserves the hope. He deserves the love.

"I love you," I blurt out. "And I wish I were more eloquent…I wish I wasn't such a mess. But I do…I love you, too."

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**I could say thank you a million times…and yeah, it wouldn't be enough. So, thank you. All of you.**

**There is one more chapter left. And I'm leaving for the Caribbean today on vacation. I am going to post the last chapter sometime before we sail. Come on, now…I couldn't leave you hanging for nine days! So yeah…let this show you just how much I adore you guys.**

**I love Marvar more than anything. Seriously. She means the entire world to me and I cherish our friendship. Thank you, bestie! You amaze me every single day. ILY That's all.**

**#TeamAmazeballs is fucking awesome. You should get to know them. Follow all of them on twitter. They make my life happier. Raina312, Kourt17, laura_1025 and jaimearkin. Thank you, girls. I adore you.**

**See you guys later!**


	30. Chapter 30

The light in my bedroom is muted. I guess the light isn't really on in my bedroom at all. It's coming from the bathroom that I just stepped out of. You know, because I had to wash my face and blow my nose after crying for an hour. But he's there – Edward is there on my bed. Waiting for me. And oh, god. He's naked. Well, not really naked, but he's lying there…in nothing but his boxers.

And he looks perfect.

I briefly wonder if I shouldn't have just come out naked, too. But I know that I'm not ready for that. For him to see me – all of me – walking across the room. So, I'm in my robe. It's completely unsexy. Terrycloth. All that's missing is a picture of a moon and stars. Or maybe a cat.

"Bella," he says, and my eyes go to his. "Are you okay?"

I nod my head, letting him know that I am because I have no words.

Edward is here…in my bed. And he told me that he loved me. We told each other, and just thinking about it makes me want to cry again. Not because I'm scared, even though I am. But because I never expected this to happen for me again. I never expected to find someone…to love someone who loves me too.

"Come here," he whispers. "Please, come over here."

And so, I walk to him slowly. Nervous. Excited.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, turning my knee in to face him. The robe slips open, and embarrassed, I immediately try to close it and cover myself.

Edward raises up to me, his hand covering mine…stopping me.

"We don't…we don't have to do this," he whispers. "I could just stay tonight. I could sleep here. You know, with you. I could…I could hold you…if you'll let me."

And I look at him, knowing he means it. I have no doubt that he would hold me all night. And almost like he hears me, he takes me in his arms.

"I want to," I whisper. It's the truth.

"You're shaking," he whispers back.

"I'm nervous."

It dawns on me that Edward is holding me…and he's naked. Well, the top half of him is naked. And yeah…he feels really fucking good. And his smell…well, that's even better when it's coming directly from his skin. And suddenly, I'm really warm.

My hands trail down his back and I hear him take in a deep breath…and then I feel him shudder.

"Why are you nervous?" he asks.

"What if…what if I'm not…I don't know. What if I'm not what you expect?" I ask him. "My body…" My words trail off. I want to be honest with him, but there are some things you just can't say out loud. All of this is already embarrassing enough. I can't tell him that I'm afraid that once he sees me naked, he might not find me pretty. He might not want to be with me like this. "I'm mean, I'm… And well, you're…"

Before I know what's happening, Edward's mouth is over mine. He's kissing me deeply. And it feels so good, I just let him. And not only that, I find that I'm kissing him back. His tongue strokes…his lips suck. And then I feel the wet heat of his mouth moving down my neck. And he's sucking there, too. And fuck me, it feels so good.

"You're beautiful," he breathes against my skin. "You are so fucking beautiful, Bella. And you have always been beautiful to me."

And I don't want to cry. I don't want to be a mess. I want to just be with him, but his words are too much. They're exactly what I want him to say, but so hard to believe all at the same time.

He takes my hand and he guides it down…there. We both gasp as I feel him through the thin fabric of his shorts. Hard…and big…and seriously…he's so fucking hard. And not for nothing, I don't think he was really joking about the reason his wife left him. Well, he probably was, but what I feel in my hand is definitely huge. But I'm also pretty sure my vagina isn't that tiny.

"This is what you do to me," he tells me, pulling back and looking in my eyes. "Do you feel that, Bella?"

I can only nod my head, but my hand still strokes, still rubs him softly through the fabric. And then he moans.

He fucking moans.

And I die.

I did that. I made him do that. And suddenly, this moment isn't all about me. This moment is about him. About what I'm doing to him. And I am making him feel good. I love him…and I want to make him feel good.

"Please," he pants. "Please…let me see you. All of you."

And so I whisper, "Okay."

With trembling hands, Edward reaches out and unties the robe. And then he slowly pushes it from my shoulders. And he's staring at me…silent. Saying nothing at all. And almost reflexively, I move to cover myself.

But Edward stops me.

"Don't," he whispers. "You…you're perfect."

And in this moment, with him looking at me like this…I think that maybe I am.

He reaches for me, pulls me up against him. And our bodies are touching. Like really fucking touching. My breasts are pressed against his chest, our stomachs together. And I am in this moment. With him. I am here, right now, with him.

Maybe it's because we're close, and he's not looking at me. Maybe it's because it feels like every single thing has led us to this point. And not just these months with him, with group. But everything feels like I've found the person I was always looking for. And because of that, even though I'm still nervous, I'm not really scared.

This feels completely right.

"I love you," I whisper.

He pulls back to look at me again. My eyes. We're naked…and he's looking in my eyes.

"Say it again."

He's serious.

He fucking means it.

"I love you," I tell him. "It's crazy just how much."

He kisses me. It's soft and sweet. And I can't help but think about how this is exactly how he's always been. He has _always_ been so soft and sweet with me.

"I already told you," he murmurs against my lips. "You're not crazy."

"This is my moment," I blurt out. "This…this right here. This is my moment."

"What moment?" he asks.

"This will always be the moment," I say, starting to cry all over again. _Goddamn emotions_. "This is the moment I will always remember as the moment I knew you were it for me. My person…you know…for forever."

And he looks at me for the longest time. And I look at him.

"Forever," he repeats.

"Yes," I tell him. "I need you to be…you know…my forever."

And it's out there now. I can't take it back. But I don't want to. There's still a small part of my brain that's wired to think that I can't trust anyone. But the biggest part of me – the important, trying-to-be-healthy part of me that I'm still working on – knows that I can trust him.

"I need you to be mine, too," he says.

And slowly, Edward lowers both of us to my bed. His body covers mine…his mouth covers mine. It's tender and it's sweet. It's slow and hot…and my desire builds. _His desire builds_. I feel it pressed against me. I _want_ to feel it inside me.

And then I do.

He pushes.

I stretch.

We fit.

Perfectly.

And when he breathes, "I love you," into my mouth as we come, I know…

And it strikes me with such clarity.

Sometimes things don't work out at all. And sometimes…things don't work out the way you expected. I never expected to get better…to heal. I never expected to find my way out of the darkness. And I never expected to find Edward in the midst of trying.

But I did.

And he's here.

And Edward has been the most unexpected surprise.

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**:::sobs::: I'll just be over here crying. **

**Thank you for the love, for loving these characters…and for cheering them on. You have made my life every single day for the last month. I adore you guys!**

**I have no words for Marvar. She's beyond amazing and knows just how much I love her. Thank you, soulmate. For everything.**

**#TeamAmazeballs Your support and encouragement has been so much more than I could ever have asked for. Thank you for being beautiful, wonderful and amazing women. And thank you for being my friends. Raina, Kourt, Laura and Jaime. You all mean the world to me. And ILY.**

**See you all when I get back from paradise!**


	31. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

I curl up on the couch. I don't reach for the blanket this time. I'm not really cold. But I still want to get one from the Pottery Barn. Well, maybe two. One in purple and one in green.

It's funny how this place, this room, feels so familiar. Almost like a part of my own home. I feel comfortable here. I feel like this space is safe. But I guess it's always been like that, hasn't it? Even when I thought that it wasn't.

"What are you thinking about?" Renata asks.

"Honestly?"

"I think we've gone over this before, Bella," she says evenly.

But I know – at least, I think I know – that she's smiling on the inside. Well, maybe.

"I was thinking about how this…I mean, your office…well, it feels safe. Comfortable."

"Has it always been that way?"

I chuckle softly. Of course she'd know my train of thought.

"I think so," I tell her. "I mean, I don't think I always thought that. But I think that I knew…you know, like somewhere inside me or whatever…that it was safe. That I was safe here."

I don't really offer her anything else, but she doesn't seem to mind. And if she's thinking about anything, it's not showing on her face. But I suppose that it's always been that way, too.

"How are you?"

I sigh.

It's good.

"I'm good."

She smiles.

"Care to define good?"

I laugh. I can't help it.

"Good is good. Good is…better."

"Better than what?"

"Better than yesterday."

"Was yesterday bad?" she asks.

"No," I tell her, smiling. I can't help it. "Yesterday was good, too. Today's just…better."

"Why is today better?"

I take a deep breath.

I know I need to share this with her. I mean, it's kind of huge. Like, really huge. Well, it was huge to me.

"I saw Tyler on Monday night," I say evenly.

I look for an expression change on her face. Shock maybe. Something. I don't really expect one. And like usual, she doesn't surprise me.

"Where did you see him?" Her voice is as even as her expression.

"I was at the market," I tell her. "Not my usual one. You know…the one by my apartment. I was actually just picking up a few things before going to Edward's. I was…you know…I was going to make him dinner or whatever."

I stop talking. I don't really know why. And Renata looks at me. I think she wants to ask me a question. Or maybe she doesn't. I don't know, but I decide to continue.

"It's funny," I tell her. "You know…the things you think about when you're in a situation like that. I remember looking in my basket and thinking that all I had inside it was a bottle of wine."

"Why do you think the wine stood out to you?" she asks evenly. No inflection at all.

I think about her question. I mean, I didn't really have to _think_ about her question. I know the answer. I knew what I felt that night…and I know what I feel right now. But it's an entirely different thing to put it all into words, isn't it?

"I remember standing there thinking that Tyler was there. I was seeing him…sharing the same space with him after so long. I couldn't really process that. And then I looked down…at the wine. And I cringed."

Her expression is soft, but sill not quite readable. And I can't help but wonder what she's thinking.

"Why did you cringe, Bella?"

I take a deep breath, and then I just start talking.

"I cringed…well, I cringed at first because I looked down. Because seeing him there in front of me made me feel like I needed to look down. And here I was…you know, with this bottle of wine. And I was like…I don't know…afraid or something. You know? Like he was going to think I was buying this sad bottle of wine to drink by myself. And then I was ashamed…and it was like all those feelings came rushing back. And I remembered who I was when he left me. This broken, pathetic…this sad fucking woman. And you know what?"

She doesn't say anything, so I look up at her expectantly.

"What?"

"I remembered that _he_ didn't matter."

"Tyler doesn't matter," she says. It's not a question.

"Not anymore," I tell her evenly. Laughing once. "I mean he used to. Everything about him used to matter. Everything I was and wasn't, was all wrapped up in him…and what he did to me. How he hurt me. But that's not the case anymore. And I was standing there realizing that for the better part of this past year, Tyler hasn't been the first thing I think about when I get out of bed in the morning. He's not the last thing I think about before falling asleep. Fuck, the only time I really ever think about him anymore is when I'm in sessions with you. And that's only because you make me."

She laughs a little and I find that I'm laughing, too. It feels nice. It feels easy.

"So, then," she says. "What did you do when you remembered that he didn't matter?"

"Well," I tell her, scrunching up my nose. "I asked him if he would excuse me because I still had a couple of things I needed to pick up."

"And what was his reaction?"

And I grin at her now. I can't help it. Pride surges through me, and I know that what I'm about to tell her is monumental. And even better than that – even more – is the fact that I knew it was monumental the other night.

"I don't know. I didn't stay to find out."

She makes a note. She hasn't really done that in a while. My smile is even bigger.

"And why not?" she asks, still looking down at my file, but I can see the small smile on her face.

"Because…I didn't need to. It didn't matter. You know, what he thought. It didn't matter. It doesn't."

"And how does that make you feel?"

I think about her question. Because the obvious answer is, "Good." I loved Tyler, and hurt me so much that I thought the pain was irrevocable. But it turns out that it wasn't. The pain wasn't. I've mostly recovered. I'm not there yet, but I know I'm getting there.

"Yeah…that feels good."

"Just good?" she prompts.

"Good is good," I tell her. "Good isn't bad. Good isn't sad and depressed and angry. So, yeah…good."

She looks down at my file for a second and then back up to me.

"I thought yesterday was 'good,'" she says. "And today was 'better.'"

It's not a question, but I know she wants a response.

"Today _is_ better," I tell her.

"I'm glad," she says. "Do you think you can tell me why?"

"I used to come here," I start, pulling my feet up under my legs. "I used to come here, and I always wondered when I was going to be normal again. Actually, I think I knew I would never really be normal again. I just wondered when I was finally going to say the right things. You know, to make _you_ think I was normal."

She doesn't make a note. It's weird because I'm pretty sure that this feels like a moment that she _should _be taking note.

"And what do you think now?"

"I think normal is a relative word," I tell her. "An impossible actuality that I'll never be able to achieve. Because what the fuck is it, really?"

"I don't know if you remember this," she says softly, "but you used to say that word a lot during our sessions."

"Really?" I ask, surprise evident in my voice.

"Really," she nods. She placed the file on the table between us and she leans in a bit. "So, if 'normal' is impossible, what do you want now?"

I close my eyes. I breathe in deeply. It's easy…just like breathing should be. And I can appreciate it now because I can remember when breathing was hard. When everything was hard.

"I want to be happy."

My eyes are still closed, but I can feel the slight smile on my face, the slight lift of my cheeks, the way the roots of my hair tingle with a pleasure I couldn't have identified not so long ago.

"And are you?" she asks. "Are you happy, Bella?"

.

.

.

I feel a trickle of sweat drip down my chest and into my bra. It's so hot outside and it's not much cooler in here. I take a sip of the iced latte in front of me and close my eyes, wishing I'd gone home to change before coming.

Then I feel him behind me.

My whole body tingles.

And then I feel his mouth against my neck. It's even hotter now – humid and wet as his tongue strokes my skin. I have to force myself not to moan. Well, maybe I moan a little. He chuckles, kisses me softly on my lips, and then takes the seat in front of me.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he says. "Have you been waiting very long?"

"No," I tell him. "I haven't been here long at all. My session ran a little over."

"Ah," he says, reaching out across the table to take my hand. "And how is the lovely Renata today?"

"She's fine," I tell him, squeezing his hand gently.

"And what about you?" he asks, a little more intensity in his voice.

"Oh, I see how it is," I chide him. "Renata is lovely. Am I not lovely?"

"You are beautiful," he says, pulling my hand up and kissing my palm. "Gorgeous," he murmurs, pulling me closer, kissing the inside of my elbow. I feel my entire body flush. It feels so fucking good. "How are you, Bella?"

Our fingers link and I pull his hand back across to me, offering him the same kisses that he just offered me. And everything about this feels easy. Right. Exactly right.

"I'm really happy."

And I am.

.

.

.

**A/N**

**Reviews are love.**

**Please leave me some.**

**Thank you for every single word, review and each story that you shared. The response to this has been beyond anything I could have ever hoped for. **

**Marvar, there are no words. Just how much I love and adore you. And how grateful I am that you are in my life. **

**#TeamAmazeballs is the shit. Raina, Courtney, Laura and Jaime. I love you all, too. Thank you for loving, encouraging and supporting me every single day.**


End file.
